


Three of Swords

by WhosePOV



Category: DCU (Comics), Joker (2019), Willard (2003)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Eventual Smut, Father issues, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Mother Issues, Multi, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Swearing, Threesome, Violence, Voyeurism, mention of past child abuse, mention of rape, suicide discussion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 102,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhosePOV/pseuds/WhosePOV
Summary: Committed to Arkham State Hospital for his violent obsession with rats, Willard Stiles is placed in a room next to the infamous Arthur Fleck.It’s been several months since Arthur was arrested for multiple murders. There’s little left of the passive victim he had once been. Something about Willard nabs his interest, and he’s determined to goad the introverted Stiles into reveling in his true nature, rats and all.Hunter’s murky past has brought her to Gotham where she takes a job in housekeeping at Arkham. She forms a potentially dangerous bond with Stiles and Fleck and is swept into their escape plan.Things are almost too easy for the threesome, since those in charge seem oblivious to their growing relationship. Someone is watching them carefully, though--someone with designs on Joker and an offer that means either freedom or death for the trio.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck|Joker/Willard Stiles/Original Female Character
Comments: 90
Kudos: 34





	1. Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I saw Joker, I haven't been able to stop thinking about some of the similarities between Arthur Fleck and Willard Stiles, another lovable loner who walks a dark path. They're both outcasts with manipulative mothers and mean bosses. Both target people who've hurt them in some way, and of course both end up in a mental hospital. I couldn't help wondering what would happen if they met while on the inside. Their personalities are different enough that it's easy to imagine lots of friction between them despite their similar stories, but it would be fun to explore a relationship between them, especially if someone else is around as a buffer. 
> 
> I couldn't find any other Willard fics on this site, but if you know of any, I would love to hear about them. 
> 
> Thank you for looking at this fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovering from a fight with another patient, Arthur meets two newcomers to Arkham.

Arthur’s head still spun, but that wasn’t shocking after a fight with Yeti, as he was nicknamed by patients and staff. The oversized, white-haired freak should have killed Arthur in the fight that had broken out during movie time, but Arthur had cheated death before, even when he’d tried to bring it on himself.

That thought made him chuckle--best he could do with the strength he had left after sending Yeti to the infirmary. Arthur thought they would at least bring him there, too, but he should have known better, not with Sausage Breath hauling him back to his cell--uh, room. Ole Sausage had it in for Arthur from the first.

“That’s right, Fleck. Keep on laughin’.” Sausage grunted, dragging Arthur down the corridor. Arthur didn’t care, since his legs were still wobbly from the fight, but at least he’d walked away from it--more or less. Yeti left by gurney, his face even more of a bloody mess than Arthur’s. With any luck, he'd killed the fucker. That would be nice. One less violent loony to worry about. It’s not like murdering someone else would change Arthur’s future. He’d already killed six people. Yes, they were awful and instead of locked way, Arthur should be rewarded for fulfilling a public service, but society didn’t see it that way.

Fuck ‘em all.  
  
“Here we go. Beddy-bye.” Sausage practically flung Arthur into his room.

His laughter turned into a grunt on impact that jarred his teeth. 

Sausage closed the door and locked it, leaving Arthur completely alone. Still sprawled on the floor, he closed his eyes and listened to the rasp of his own harsh breathing slow to normal. Warm wetness trickled down his temples--an almost soothing mix of blood and sweat. It reminded him that he was still alive.

Eventually his fuzzy head cleared. The adrenaline high from the fight faded, and awareness took over. The coolness of the hard floor seeped through his thin shirt and pants--hospital issue. The scent of cleaning fluid mingled with the musky aroma of his own sweat, and the coppery taste of blood from his cut lip lingered on his tongue. 

Usually after a fight, they sent him right to solitary. Sometimes he went to the infirmary first, depending on who was in charge. Patients were supposed to be treated with empathy and respect. That probably looked good on paper, but reality rarely matched written rules.

Hell, no one had treated him with empathy and respect _before_ he’d committed murder. The only difference was before he’d been a doormat. At least now when people fucked with him, they knew they were toying with death.

The sound of voices and footsteps in the hall caught his attention. Were they going to send him to solitary after all?

No. By the sound of it, someone was moving into the room next door. 

Sighing, Arthur turned his head and another smile tugged at his lips when he noticed the ragged little hole in the wall under his bed. Apparently the local rats had been busy. He hadn’t seen the hole before, but why would he? It wasn’t usual for him to flop out on the floor. Through the hole he had a view of almost the entire room next door. 

Two pairs of feet maneuvered around. One belonged to an orderly and the other, by the footwear, to a patient.

A new victim had arrived.

“There you go, Stiles,” said the orderly. “Get yourself settled. Still don’t want to talk? Okay. Tomorrow is another day.”

The orderly left the room. Another door clicked and a lock slid into place.

Arthur stared through the rat hole. Stiles. Why did that name sound familiar?

He had a clear view of the new guy now that he’d walked to the far end of his cell. He looked to be of average height with broad shoulders and a slender frame. Though unkempt, his ink black hair was silky. 

He turned slowly and settled onto the bed. His angular features--cheekbones like cut glass and a hawkish nose--remained passive. He was too far away for Arthur to determine the color of his eyes, but they looked light, possibly blue.

Sitting statue still, the guy stared blankly. Lots of people around here had that same look. Fuck. If Arthur was only able to see and possibly communicate with one neighbor through a rat hole, he’d hoped it would be someone lively--someone who might at least be good for a few laughs. 

By now the thrill of fighting with Yeti had worn off completely, replaced by a variety of pain, from the sting of a still-oozing cut on his forehead to the general aches and pains throughout his whole battered body. He didn’t even have the energy to get off the floor and climb into bed.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before someone tapped on his door and then stepped inside.

“Arthur Fleck? I’ve brought your dinner--Oh my goodness!” A tall, slender woman dressed in a housekeeper’s uniform stepped inside and placed his food on the table across the room. She had to be brand new, since she approached and knelt beside him without fear.

He grinned, studying her with interest. Her name tag said Hunter. If she made a habit of approaching men like him without taking precautions, she might become the hunted instead.

“You were in that fight during the movie,” she said. “Why didn’t they take you to the infirmary?”

“You’re asking me?” His smile broadened and fresh blood gushed from the cut on his lip. “Talk to Sausage Breath.”

“Oh wow.” She chuckled and slapped a hand over her mouth. Dark eyes glistened with amusement. “You’ve gotta mean Sam.”

No matter how new she was, she had obviously met Sausage Breath already.

“Yeah. He’s kind of potent, and I don’t mean that in a good way. Wow.” Again she covered her mouth with her hand. “If I don’t watch what I say, I’ll lose my job before it even starts. Hey, I’m going to call a nurse to take care of you. Can you get on the bed?”

“Why? Do you think I’m potent, too?”

“Uh, let’s not go there. I can give you a hand up--or maybe you shouldn’t move until the nurse gets here.”

Arthur turned back toward the rat hole. His neighbor still sat on the bed, apparently catatonic. So much for that. Hunter was more interesting.

He pushed himself to his elbow and paused. Yeah. Not dizzy anymore. He rose and Hunter instinctively reached toward him, steadying him with a hand on his lower back and another on his shoulder. Didn’t she know she shouldn’t touch him?

_This girl has no cents at all._

“Come on. Sit down.” 

It would be so easy to grab her, wrap her hair in his fist, yank it back and expose her slender throat. He could take her keys, press one of the jagged metal pieces to her vulnerable flesh and use her to--

Stupid idea. He wouldn’t get far. He’d done it before, taken his keepers by surprise and nearly made it to the door, but they always caught him.

Even if he got out, what would he do? Where would he go? He could always hitchhike across the country. Find a place where no one knew or cared what happened in Gotham--a place where no one would recognize the infamous Joker, slayer of shit-faced businessmen and smartass talk show hosts.

He sat on the bed and wiped a hand over the side of his face. The trickle of blood annoyed him. He glanced at the red smear on his palm.

“I’m going to get a nurse. Be right back.” Hunter held his gaze, her hand still resting on his shoulder. Its warmth seeped into him, stirring long forgotten feelings that made him uncomfortable and even a little angry.

Then she turned away and left quickly, locking the door behind her.

Arthur drew a deep breath and released it slowly, stretching out on the bed. He gazed toward the ceiling. This might turn out to be an interesting night after all.


	2. Something So Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter puts herself on the line to help Arkham's most infamous patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who has left kudos or looked at this story! This is the second update this week, but from now on, I'm planning to update it every weekend.

When she’d stepped into Arthur Fleck’s room, Hunter had chosen to overlook certain rules about handling patients. Trusting her heart instead of her mind had always been her biggest problem--well, one of her biggest problems. Too late she remembered warnings about this specific patient.

The way he looked at her--the slightly playful and extremely dangerous expression in his green eyes, knocked her back to reality. He looked like a cat who’d cornered a mouse--ready to toy with it before moving in for the kill.

Her heart pounded when she left the room, locking the door behind her. She’d escaped unharmed. If Fleck’s reputation hadn’t preceded him, she might have thought she had misread his cruel, calculating intentions. 

Like most people, she had seen him in the news. Everyone knew the crazy killer who, on live TV, had murdered Murray Franklin, Gotham City's beloved talk show host. In person, though, he hadn’t seemed as terrifying at first glance. With his weathered face, lovely almost soulful eyes fringed by thick lashes, and a painfully thin frame, he appeared harmless enough--fragile, even. She could hardly believe that he had sent the hulking Yeti to the infirmary. From what she’d heard, the ferocious giant was at death’s door. He’d started the fight, but scrawny little Fleck had certainly finished it.

At the nurse’s station, she explained that Fleck looked in rough shape and needed medical attention.

“We’ll take care of it,” said Julie, one of the nurses. She’d scarcely even looked in Hunter’s direction. It wasn’t clear if she was dismissing Hunter because she was a new, lowly housekeeper, or because no one gave a damn if Fleck bled all over his room. 

Maybe Hunter was overreacting. She was new at this, with nothing more than a crash course in how to handle the patients. This was the first job in Gotham to call her back. Needing money badly, she’d accepted right away, despite the bad feeling that worried at the back of her mind. She was probably the last person who should work at Arkham. Some might argue that she should be a patient, rather than an employee. 

She shook her head. At the moment, she couldn’t think about her problems. Better to focus on work. 

Back in Fleck’s room, she approached his bed, but this time kept a safe distance between them.

“Mr. Fleck,” she said softly but firmly.

He opened his eyes and slowly rolled his head toward her. Another strange sensation--part apprehension and part something else--pulsed through her at his look. 

“The nurse will be here soon to help you.”

He smiled and those eyes brightened with--was it amusement? “You’re sure about that?”

“Nurse Julie told me--“

“You didn’t have to answer.” He chuckled a little. “It’s one of those questions. What’s the word?”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “Rhetorical?”

He smiled again, a snide look on his face. “Something like that.”

Now he was really creeping her out, and he wasn’t even doing anything too crazy. He even sounded normal enough. Maybe that combined with his history and the fact that he was currently covered in blood, unsettled her. She’d better get a hold of herself and toughen up. This was Arkham. Things would no doubt get much worse, not only with him, but with other patients.

Hunter left. She still had meals to deliver. 

The next tray on her cart belonged to one of the newest patients, Willard Stiles. Hunter knew all about him. Just weeks ago he had been arrested after authorities were called to his house. It had been overrun by rats, but that wasn't too shocking. Since the garbage strike last year, Gotham had a horrific rat problem. Apparently Stiles had chosen to live among the rats, feeding them and treating them like pets, until the problem got out of hand. Rumor had it that he’d even trained them so well that he’d used them to murder his boss. No one had been able to actually prove that he had been responsible for the attack. Either way, he’d been unhinged enough to require hospitalization here at Arkham. 

When she entered Stiles’s room, he didn’t so much as glance at her. His sharp features, marred by a few healing scratches and bruises, remained passive. No, it was even more than that. He didn’t seem to register her presence at all. Blue eyes, as aesthetically pleasing as Fleck’s but lacking their expressiveness, remained downcast.

“Mr. Stiles,” she ventured, approaching to place his meal on the table. “Here’s dinner.”

No response.

He sat, pale and drawn. The hospital clothes draped his slim frame. Unlike Fleck, he didn’t look malnourished, just at the lower end of his healthy weight. He was actually rather fit, like someone who looked after himself, or had at one time. Now he seemed completely out of touch and disinterested. 

“It looks pretty good.” Hunter glanced at the meal. “For hospital food.”

No answer. Not even a flicker of his eyes.

“It’s chicken and green beans. If you don’t like it, maybe I can get you something else?”

Not so much as a twitch.

“I’ll be back for the tray in a little bit.” Hunter left to finish delivering meals.

Just like she thought, some patients were far worse than Fleck and not nearly as quiet as Stiles. She quickly learned to keep her guard up and just do her job. Some talked to her, and she responded in what she hoped was an appropriate manner. If she did something wrong, no doubt she’d hear about it. She’d probably be spoken to about how she’d initially handled Arthur Fleck.

Speaking of him, she passed by his room to make sure he wasn’t still lying there bleeding.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, seeing that no one had bothered to look in on him.

Again she approached the same nurse.

“We have a schedule to keep,” Nurse Julie said rather coldly. “You’ve done your due diligence, now I’m sure there’s plenty of work for you to do around this place. If you can’t find something to keep you occupied, I’ll call your supervisor. I’m sure she has a list for you.”

Hunter got the point. Mind her own business or she’d be reported.

Yes, Fleck was a murderer, but he shouldn't be neglected in a _hospital_. This wasn’t a prison, after all. They’d put him here because he wasn’t in control of his actions, right? Weren’t they supposed to help? 

Or maybe he was beyond help. He’d murdered six people. Maybe the doctors and nurses had found him hopeless and he was to remain here for the rest of his life, however long that might be.

Maybe the nurse was right. Hunter was supposed to clean messes, do laundry, and deliver meals. Better not to get involved with the patients any more than necessary. 

Yet half an hour later, she found herself back in Arthur Fleck’s room. He lay on his side, his eyes closed, an arm wrapped around himself. Blood stained his pillow. Pink tinged saliva trickled from his mouth. His dinner remained untouched on the table. 

Clearly no one had tended to him.

Cursing under her breath, Hunter retrieved gloves, antiseptic, and bandages. This had to be completely against the rules. She wasn’t a trained medical professional and had no business touching a patient, but what choice did she have? If she didn’t do something, Fleck would probably spend the night like this. 

Why did she care? Helping him put her job at risk. She needed the paycheck, but was she really desperate enough to ignore shit like this?

Yeah. She probably was, but it wasn’t in her nature. 

_Dying young must be in your nature, because he’d probably just as soon kill you as look at you._

Maybe death would be better. Life was such a fucking struggle, and what did she have to look forward to? A career in housekeeping at Arkham? Going home every night to her crappy apartment, alone?

In Fleck’s room, she tentatively tapped his bony shoulder. How the hell had a guy this skinny taken out Yeti?

Those green eyes opened, dazed at first, and then they focused on her. 

He smiled. “You again?”

“No nurse?”

“Told ya.” He batted his long lashes. Was he ever serious? 

What the hell was she thinking? He’d called himself Joker. He was all about humor, sick as it may be.

“Do you mind if I clean you up a little?”

“How sweet. Everyone is so awful these days. It’s nice to meet someone kind enough to risk everything to help one of us crazies.”

His sarcasm annoyed her a little, but she reminded herself not to expect normal behavior. “Is that a yes?”

He rolled onto his back and opened his arms. “Have at me.”

The urge to laugh almost overcame her. He couldn’t possibly be contagious? 

She gently cleaned his face. It gave her the opportunity to really study him. He had good cheekbones and a nice nose. His lower lip was cut and swollen from the fight. She applied some ice.

“Hold that,” she told him. 

Again that snide look crept over his face, but he slowly moved his hand to the ice pack. His long, thin fingers, the nails bitten to the quick, brushed hers. She jerked away, ignoring the fluttering in her belly at his touch. She couldn’t decide if the sensation was due to attraction or disgust. It was wrong on so many levels to be attracted to a patient, right? Completely unethical.

He wasn’t even attractive.

Okay, that was a lie. He wasn't _traditionally_ attractive, but he was strangely appealing. Could someone repulse you and turn you on at the same time? 

Was this place infecting her already?

Some said that Arkham did that to people.

_No. That’s bull._

She continued cleaning Arthur Fleck’s face. The cut that bled the most probably needed stitches, but at least it wasn’t gushing anymore. He wouldn’t bleed to death, but the injury would probably leave a scar.

Why didn’t the nurse do her fucking job? Maybe Hunter should have gone over her head.

“You know you could get in trouble for this,” Fleck said in a soft, disarming voice.

“I know.”

“They watch everything.”

“Yeah. Would you prefer I don’t bother?”

He shrugged. “One way or another, you’ll be gone from here long before me.”

She chuckled. “Do you think I’ll be fired or will I quit?”

“There’s a third possibility you didn’t mention.”

Her brow furrowed. What did he mean? 

Oh! Right. A third possibility.

Fired.

Quit.

Killed.

“Sit still while I bandage this.” Hunter had found some butterfly bandages and used them on the worst cut. Absently she trailed her fingertips over his face. He had lots of interesting lines. She had to stop herself from touching his heavy eyebrows. 

She brushed damp brown curls from his forehead, but only to make sure she hadn’t missed any cuts, at least that’s what she told herself.

“I’d try to get you some aspirin or something, but I don’t think the nurse will bother, and there’s no way I can mess around with medication.”

A soft, indignant snort of laughter escaped him.

“Sit up and I’ll get you a fresh pillow.” She gathered the remnants of her first aid job for disposal.

He did what she told him, surprisingly obedient. This wasn’t the raving lunatic she had been warned about, but that itself made her nervous. She’d heard that Fleck could be crafty--that he couldn’t be trusted. 

He picked up his pillow, stained with blood, sweat, and drool, and looked at it thoughtfully.

“I killed her with one of these.” He studied the pillow for a moment before lifting his gaze to Hunter’s. “You wouldn’t think something so soft and harmless could be a weapon, but it did the job as well as my 38.”

His mother. He’d murdered his own mother. 

Hunter’s belly tightened. 

_Don’t let him see that you’re rattled. He’s like any other wild animal. He needs just a whiff of fear and he’ll move in for the kill._

She held his gaze steadily and extended her hand.

He gave her the pillow, smiling ever-so slightly. 

Hunter left quickly to get him a fresh one.

When she returned, he was still sitting on the bed. Seeing her, his serious expression shifted to a grin. Glittering green eyes fixed on her.

“Thank you.” He took the pillow she offered.

“You’re welcome.” 

This time she didn’t linger before hurrying out of his room.


	3. Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard's relentless new neighbor makes it more difficult than ever for him to keep up his unresponsive facade.

Ben was the quintessential Super Rat--the kind Gotham residents feared more than any other rodent. Willard wouldn’t be surprised if Ben hadn’t been the great grandfather of them all--the patriarch of the monstrosities that swarmed the city since the garbage strike. They scurried out of dark havens and crawled out of sewers to munch on a buffet of fetid trash created by people.

People deserved what they got.

Willard nearly smiled, but he couldn’t. Better to let them think he’d vacated his own brain. Everyone wanted him to talk about what happened, but he wasn’t that stupid or that crazy. 

The police pressed him to confess to his involvement with Mr. Martin’s death. Without an admission of guilt, they couldn’t tie Willard to the incident. Yes, rats had devoured the bastard and Willard had a house full of rats, but that didn’t mean he had the power to talk them into committing murder. 

Even before he'd arrived here, counselors and doctors had attempted to pry deeper into his mind, but Willard kept his silence.

Maybe if he felt guilty about Mr. Martin, he might have talked, but that sorry excuse for a human being deserved to die. Willard could take his verbal abuse--the psychological beatings day after day. Week after week. Month after month. Year after year. He could endure it, but that devil in human skin had killed Socrates. Beautiful, sweet, intelligent Socrates--Willard’s one true friend. Seeing his tiny, blood-soaked corpse had been Willard’s breaking point.

Mr. Martin had to die.

A life for a life.

No, they could keep Willard locked away forever, but he wouldn’t admit to his part in the killing and he would never, never feel remorse.

It wasn’t that Willard didn’t feel regret about anything. He was truly sorry that his mother had died in such a horrible way--that his rodent friends had been the cause of her death.

He regretted Scully’s death, too. He shouldn’t have sent the cat into his house, but at least in a way that was karma. The hunter had become the hunted. 

The guilt that plagued him most resulted from his lack of action when Mr. Martin chased and killed dear Socrates. Willard should have stepped in--he should have fought for his friend’s life, but as usual he’d been afraid. A coward. Just like Mr. Martin had called him so many times.

Why hadn’t he fought back sooner, for Socrates and for himself?

Willard swallowed past thickness in his throat. When the woman had brought his food, the scent of it had momentarily tempted him, but thinking about Socrates, his mother, and Mr. Martin drove away his appetite. 

Something about the woman--she looked like a housekeeper for the hospital--reminded him of Cathryn. 

Sweet, pretty Cathryn who had almost befriended him and ultimately betrayed him.

Not that he blamed her. She’d been kind enough to bring him Scully as a gift, to combat loneliness after his mother died. She had meant well. He’d tried to tell her that he couldn’t keep the cat, but she’d insisted.

_Insisted!_

That’s why Scully was dead. Cathryn had given him no choice.

Maybe he should have said he was allergic to cats. Why hadn’t he thought of that excuse until now? It would have saved Scully and possibly prevented Cathryn from suggesting to the authorities that he was responsible for Mr. Martin’s death. 

It didn’t matter. Cathryn had turned out to be just like everyone else--completely untrustworthy. 

Maybe he was being a little harsh.

What did it matter?

Regardless of what she said, he would have ended up in the mental hospital. No one could possibly understand why he’d chosen to share his home with several hundred rats.

“Hey. Stiles, right?”

Oh no. Now Willard was hearing voices. Maybe he’d been acting crazy for so long that now he actually was.

“Hello. Down here.”

_Don’t move. They probably have a camera on you, waiting to see if you’ll respond to anyone or anything--even a voice in your head._

“Fuck. The one person I can talk to without someone watching and he’s brain dead. I guess in a way it’s kind of funny.” The voice giggled breathlessly. “Let me give it one more try. You. Stiles. Down here near the rat hole.”

Damn. Willard’s curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t move his head, but his gaze drifted across the room. There was indeed a rat hole, and through its jagged edges, peered the face of a man.

Well, more like half of his face was visible, since the hole wasn’t very large. Willard made out a thickly-lashed green eye that blinked, catlike. Even from a distance, there was no missing the sparkle of mischief in his glance. Bandages ran from his eyebrow to his cheek. Dark stubble dusted his jaw, and a sore-looking cut marred his swollen bottom lip.

“So you can hear me. Willard Stiles, right? It took me a while to figure out why you’re so familiar. I saw you on TV--you and your trained rats. What you did was beautiful. I wish I’d thought of it. But it would have taken more work than using a gun. That’s just point and click, right?”

Just because the voice now had a face didn’t mean it wasn’t still part of Willard’s imagination.

“A piece of friendly advice from someone who’s been here a while, you might want to eat some of that dinner. If you don’t eat, they’ll eventually feed you in another way that you won’t like at all. Trust me.” He fell silent for a moment, and then he sighed dramatically. “You’re going to be a barrel of laughs.”

At the sound of footsteps outside his door, Willard cast his gaze back down to his hands that were still scabbed over in places from that final fight with Ben.

His door opened. The woman stepped in and approached.

“You didn’t eat, Mr. Stiles. Would you like me to leave the tray a little longer?”

Her soft, soothing voice was like a lure, but he’d never again be tempted by the kindness of a woman, so he didn’t respond.

She picked up the tray and gazed at him for a moment.

“My name is Hunter, by the way.”

It was hard not to acknowledge her. Willard was inherently polite, but he needed to keep up his act.

“Goodnight,” she said before leaving.

Once she’d locked the door, Willard’s gaze riveted back to the rat hole, but his neighbor was no longer there. Maybe he’d imagined the entire one-sided conversation after all.

Willard heard Hunter’s voice through the wall.

“Mr. Fleck, are you finished with your dinner?”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was the same voice, so Willard wasn’t crazy after all.

“You’re supposed to push it through the slot. I’m sure you know that.”

“Yeah. I. . .I’m sorry. I thought that maybe you’d be comfortable coming in after you’d helped me earlier.”

“I broke the rules because no one came to care for you, but I can’t do it all the time. I hope you understand, Mr. Fleck.”

Fleck. Fleck. Willard knew that name. 

“You’re too nice.” There was no missing the smile in his voice. His words were polite, but his tone dripped deceit.

Willard tensed a bit. Hunter _did_ seem nice, and some people in this place might do a woman like that serious harm. She should be more careful.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Fleck said.

“Mr. Fleck--”

“My name is Arthur.”

“Try to remember to use the slot next time, Arthur, or I might lose my job.”

Arthur Fleck. 

Joker!

Now Willard remembered. He was that crazy clown who had shot Murray Franklin on live television. Willard wasn’t a fan of the show, but everyone had seen clips from _that_ night. Fleck was completely out of his mind. Hunter better be careful around him. 

“You’re right. I’ll try to remember,” Fleck said, his voice a little softer than before--not quite as high-pitched.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Nighty night, Hunter.”

“How did you know my--”

“You’re wearing a nametag.”

She laughed softly. “Right. I forgot.”

“Watch the guy in room 302. He likes to spit food at people.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“He shot a grape right in Sausage Breath’s eye once. It was so funny.” Fleck chuckled.

“I would have loved to see that.” Hunter sounded sincere. 

Fleck nearly laughed himself breathless, his voice hitching at the end.

The door clicked and Hunter’s footsteps continued down the hall.

A moment later, Fleck pressed his face to the rat hole again. 

“She’s interesting, isn’t she?” Fleck said. “Brand new, too. So many possibilities.”

Willard’s stomach clenched. Fleck annoyed him, but he couldn’t show it.

“I know you’re there, Stiles. We could have fun with this.”

Willard’s gaze shifted around the room, hoping to find something he could use to plug up the rat hole. All he had were his blanket and pillow. It might be worth the discomfort to shut Fleck out. Willard just wanted to be left alone.

“Don’t let these awful fuckers ruin you.”

Willard had been ruined long ago. Like he’d told the lawyer at his mother’s wake who had been stupid enough to suggest he sell his house to start a new life--he was almost done.

Little did he know then exactly how close to the finish he was.

“Just to let you know, I have insomnia,” Fleck continued. 

Great. This lunatic would be up all night having a one-sided conversation.

“They give me medication for it, though. I don’t like it. It’s sort of kicking in right now.” 

Not fast enough.

Fleck fell silent for a moment. He blinked in that slow, feline manner that gave Willard chills.

Without another word, Fleck disappeared from the hole.

Good. He’d given up. 

Willard drew a deep breath and released it slowly, stretching out on the bed. He closed his eyes and let his mind go blank.

Blank was best.

Laughter rang out from Fleck’s room and Willard jumped, his heart pounding.

“Shut up in there!” someone bellowed.

“Maybe if you ask nicely. Why can’t anyone be civil anymore?” Fleck shouted back.

“Fuck you!”

“In your dreams, if you’re lucky!”

After a while, with the help of several nurses and orderlies, things settled down again.

Willard drifted off, but his dreams were haunted by cat’s eyes and Ben. When the giant rat opened his mouth, high-pitched laughter rang out.

Willard jumped awake in a cold sweat, his heart nearly beating through his chest. 

He lay back down, trembling, his pulse racing.

Welcome to Arkham State Hospital.


	4. Like a Fallen Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Seil meets Arthur Fleck, his dream patient.

Dr. Lony Seil leaned toward one of several monitors in his office. This was his favorite. It focused on Arthur Fleck’s room. 

Fleck was Lony’s main reason for pursuing the position of Chief of Psychiatry at Arkham. In addition to his administrative duties, he’d arranged to personally handle Fleck’s case. He had been watching Fleck for several days, and tomorrow they would meet for the first time. 

Seil had a plan--several, actually--but from what he’d seen tonight, his task regarding the infamous Joker had just gotten easier.

Possibly. 

Fleck was predictable in some ways, but not in others. No matter what twists and turns they faced together, it would be an interesting adventure.

At the moment, one of the hospital’s newest housekeepers--Hunter--was in Fleck’s room, tending injuries he’d sustained in a fight with a violent patient approximately three times her size. Not that size mattered much when dealing with a man like Fleck. Hunter was either a complete idiot, or she had a death wish.

She had no way of knowing that Fleck actually possessed a code of honor. If she didn’t harm him, he wouldn’t hurt her--toy with her a little, but that was merely his sense of humor.

Hunter wasn’t simply cleaning and bandaging injuries now. She was _touching_ his face, brushing back his hair. Lony smiled. Interesting. She had strange taste. Maybe that’s what attracted her to this job. Hunter hadn’t even been here for a full week and she’d already broken several rules. If Lony didn’t suspect that her interest in Fleck might help his plans, he’d have her fired.

Fleck didn’t recoil from her touch, nor did he attempt to take advantage of it. He simply watched her. 

_Good boy._

_Smart boy._

Smarter than Lony expected.

Hunter finally left Fleck’s room. Again he stretched out on the floor by his bed. 

With a furrowed brow, Lony leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his heavily bearded jaw. What was so interesting on the floor? He had studied hours of surveillance of Fleck, and he’d never done anything like this. 

In the morning, when Fleck went to breakfast, Lony would inspect the room thoroughly. 

After a few minutes, Fleck climbed into bed and went to sleep. The sleeping pills were a good thing. Lony’s goal was to get Fleck as physically fit as possible. It would ease their progress.

Lony rose from his desk, turned off the light, and headed out of his office. He needed to go home and get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, his work would truly begin.

* * *

  
In the morning, Lony arrived in the counseling room several minutes before Fleck's scheduled session. Last night, anticipation of this moment had kept Lony from relaxing, so like his patients, he’d ended up swallowing a sleeping pill. It left him a little groggier than he wanted to be, but it was better than spending the entire night on edge. He needed to be as calm and focused as possible. 

Earlier, as planned, while Fleck showered and went to the cafeteria for breakfast with the other patients, Lony searched his room. He’d discovered what Fleck found so interesting under his bed--a rat hole between his room and Willard Stiles’s. 

Lony could have the hole fixed, but he decided to wait. Again, this unplanned element might work to their advantage. 

The door opened and Arthur Fleck, in the company of an orderly, entered the room. Lony dismissed the orderly, who closed the door on his way out.

“Good morning, Arthur. Please, have a--”

Fleck settled gracefully onto the chair across from Lony.

“Seat.” Lony smiled and met Arthur’s gaze. Looking into those green eyes in person, not on camera or in a photograph, was jarring. Lony allowed himself a few seconds to simply stare back, wondering if they could somehow read each other--understand each other.

No. It was too much to ask, at least so quickly.

“My name is Dr. Lony Seil. It’s nice to meet you. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Where’s Dr. Green?”

Ah. Right to the point.

“From now on, you’ll be meeting with me. Is that all right with you?”

A smile played around Fleck’s lips. The bottom one was still quite swollen, the split in it raw. “Will it matter if I say no?”

“I’d like you to at least give me a chance.”

“What happened to Dr. Green?”

“She has a heavy workload. It’s better for her and for you if I meet with you. I’m looking forward to working with you, Arthur. You’ll have my full attention.”

He studied Lony carefully. Those glittering green eyes narrowed a bit.

“Would you like a cigarette?” Lony picked up the pack resting near Arthur’s file and offered it to him.

Arthur’s gaze flickered toward the cigarettes and then back to Lony.

“It’s okay.” Lony raised the pack a bit higher. Eventually, he intended to break Fleck of his repulsive and damaging smoking habit. For now, he used the cigarettes as a peace offering in an attempt to lure Fleck into lowering his guard.

Fleck reached his long, thin fingers toward the pack and almost reverently--or perhaps hesitantly?--tugged out a cigarette. Lony lit it for him with a silver lighter.

Fleck took a long drag and released it slowly, his gaze shifting around the room before returning to Lony again. “I thought I was only allowed to smoke if I’m a good little boy. I haven’t been.”

“How so?”

“You didn’t hear about the fight yesterday?”

“I heard you defended yourself.”

He raised a dark, heavy eyebrow. “That’s something I don’t hear very often.”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Nodding, he drew on the cigarette again. After blowing out the smoke, he flicked his tongue over his lips, licking away fresh blood that trickled from the cut. A red smear stood out against the white cigarette resting between Fleck’s fingers.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Lony asked.

“They gave me a pill. Don’t you know anything about me? Isn’t that my file right there?”

“I like to hear these things from you. I’m here to help you, Arthur.”

“Why? There’s no point, really. It’s not like anything will change for me.”

Lony smiled, resisting the urge to laugh. “Everything can change for you, Arthur. You just have to be open.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m more open than I’ve ever been in my entire fucking life.”

“How so?”

“This session is how long?”

“We have lots of time.”

He laughed and smoked, talking in between. “That’s true. What else do we have in this place but time?”

“You got a new neighbor last night.”

He nodded, tilting his head back and blowing smoke toward the ceiling. His skinny legs bounced and he wrapped a wiry arm around his concave stomach. From what Lony read in his file, he had gained a couple of pounds since arriving nearly a year ago, but getting him to eat was still a struggle. 

It was impressive that he’d even survived a fight with Yeti, let alone won. Lony had studied the surveillance tapes and couldn’t fully decide whether the outcome of the scuffle had been due to dumb luck or quick thinking on Fleck’s part. Yeti had punched him, hurled him into a wall, and tried to break a chair over his head. Fleck had managed to dodge the chair, which smashed against the wall. He’d snatched a broken leg and used it to bash Yeti’s head, over and over. It had been a bloody mess, but Fleck had survived.

“Have you spoken to him yet?” Lony prodded.

“Yeah.” This reply surprised Lony. He hadn’t expected Fleck to tell him about the hole in the wall. “At breakfast.” 

Of course. 

Lony held back another smile. He shouldn’t underestimate Fleck.

The session continued much as Lony had foreseen. Fleck wasn’t about to open up to him or anyone else--at least not anyone with counseling experience. 

Maybe that’s how Hunter would come in handy. He could use her interest in Fleck and his possible interest in her. Regardless of whether Fleck chose to talk, everyone knew his history--his thirst for attention and adoration. He was the man who had painted on a blood smile and danced while Gotham burned. Despite his darkness, or perhaps because of it, he was fascinating and beautiful. 

Like a fallen angel.

If Lony’s instincts were right, Hunter’s interest in Fleck combined with her compassionate nature would feed his hungry ego. He would probably grow attached to her--perhaps even become obsessed with her. Lony could use that to his advantage. 

When the session ended, an orderly escorted Arthur out of Lony’s office. Like the other patients, he had a full schedule. Lots of work to be done, though Lony already knew that all the conventional therapy in the world wouldn’t help. He needed to handle Arthur Fleck carefully, or he would destroy everything he’d worked for. Everything he’d dreamed about. 

He and Arthur Fleck had a long way to go, but as they say, it’s as much about the journey as it is about the destination. 


	5. Someone to Set Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur tries to draw Willard out, but Willard doesn't want to play.

So far Arthur’s morning had been dull. At breakfast he had taken his plate of runny eggs and sat at a table with Willard Stiles. Arthur saw no reason for Stiles to have a table all to himself. Stiles sat silent and motionless, staring at a bowl of oatmeal one of the orderlies had brought to him. His freshly-washed black hair was combed back from his handsome face. He wore the same blank expression as last night, but Arthur had seen that look change and he was determine to make it happen again.

“Talk about service,” Arthur teased, casting a sidelong glance at Stiles. “Are you too good or too crazy to get your own food? Maybe you’re not so crazy after all. The food here is usually awful. You got oatmeal. I avoid it. Reminds me too much of the farina I used to make for my mother.”

Sausage Breath approached the table to glower at them. “Eat up, boys. Don’t let all that yummy food go to waste. I’m not sure what we’ll do about you guys. No dinner last night. No breakfast this morning. We’ll have to find a way to get some nourishment into you.” Sausage clapped his chapped, hairy hands together and rubbed.

When he turned away to break up a food fight at a nearby table, Arthur grinned. “Watch this.” He scooped up some of his eggs and with a flick of his wrist, they dripped down the back of Sausage’s uniform. The idiot didn’t even realize what happened. Chuckling softly, Arthur flung more eggs.

With the food fight broken up, Sausage turned back to Arthur and Willard. His brow furrowed, and he nodded toward Arthur’s plate. “Hey. Not bad, Fleck. You’re eating. Keep it up and one of these days you might start to look like a human being instead of a stiff.”

“Stiffs are human beings. They’re just dead.”

“Prick,” Sausage muttered under his breath before moving to another table, the eggs dripping down his back.

Arthur laughed and rolled his shoulders in a slow shimmy to the rhythm of a song in his head.

After breakfast, Arthur had met with his psychiatrist. He’d expected Dr. Green, but had been faced with a new guy instead. Arthur didn’t like him. He wasn’t like the other shrinks he’d met. Rather than clinical indifference and forced empathy, the guy stared at him with green eyes that seemed to pry into his soul. Eyes that pretty shouldn’t be so unsettling.

Nothing about the guy was what Arthur expected from a shrink. He was almost too ordinary--too friendly. Arthur didn’t like it. If this Dr. Seil expected him to open up, he could think again. Arthur might concoct a few stories, though, if just to get some cigarettes.

The session had ended a few minutes ago, and Sausage had escorted him out here to the courtyard for exercise hour. 

Arthur glanced around at the other patients. Some wandered aimlessly. Others talked among themselves or _to_ themselves. 

Stiles stood under a tree, his gaze cast down to his feet.

Why did he interest Arthur so much? Maybe because he was so determined to be quiet and not cause trouble, but Arthur felt the underlying energy in Stiles--the capacity to wreak havoc almost the same as Arthur had done on the night of the final Live With Murray Franklin show.

Stiles was repressed, and that was something Arthur knew about. He had spent most of his fucking life repressed, and being set free felt so damn good.

“Hey.” Arthur paused in front of Stiles. 

No response.

Arthur squatted so that he could look up into Stiles’s eyes. Damn, they were beautiful. A little slanted and vivid blue, like an angel’s eyes, if angels existed. Arthur was pretty sure they didn’t, but who knows? Maybe everyone was an angel or a demon, depending on their circumstances.

“I know you’re in there. You looked at me last night, through the rat hole. Okay, there it is. A sparkle in your eyes. Come on, Stiles. We could have a good thing going. At night, when they lock us in, we’re not alone. Not really. We can say fuck the rules because we have a rat hole to talk through.”

Stiles glared, his eyes almost quivering with scarcely-repressed rage. Arthur’s stomach tightened and excitement shot through him. He somehow managed to push Stiles’s buttons. This might be even more fun than he’d imagined. 

“Fuck, I wish I had a smoke.” Arthur sighed. “Do you smoke, Stiles?”

Those blue eyes blinked quickly before focusing on Arthur again. Stiles’s nostrils flared and his chest expanded in a deep breath.

“You don’t look like a smoker to me. I bet there’s a lot you haven’t done, and even more that you have. I want to hear about the rats, but you don’t seem in the mood to talk. How about if I ask questions and you blink once for yes and twice for no? That way, we can talk, but no one else will know. You can go on with the vegetable act for our keepers. I get what you’re doing, and I can’t say I blame you. It’s--“

Stiles’s knee shot out hard, knocking Arthur backward. He caught himself with his hands. Stiles stalked off, leaving Arthur grinning from ear to ear. He laughed, loud and piercing.

Oh yes. This was going to be very interesting. Stiles had a temper, and Arthur was determined to see it. Feel it. 

Stiles had power. He wasn’t a mindless freak like Yeti. He had spirit. Smarts. Ferocity just waiting to be unleashed.

Damn. Arthur’s belly tightened again. Heat pooled in his groin. He ached and pulsed in a way he hadn’t felt since the last time he masturbated. 

Arthur flicked his tongue over his lips, tasting salt from his split lower lip. He sucked the cut, closing his eyes and groaning softly, like a vampire satisfying himself with his own blood.

In the months he had been in Arkham, Arthur hadn’t connected with anyone. He’d had some laughs. Had lots of fights. He’d nearly escaped a few times and danced in the white corridors with blood on his feet and hate in his heart.

This was the first time since he’d arrived that someone truly excited him.

After last night, Stiles was the perfect distraction.

The housekeeper who’d dressed Arthur's wounds had left him with a sick, angry knot in his gut. She’d made him feel weak and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt since before Joker emerged. He was done with soft emotions. What did those feelings ever get him except sadness, restlessness, and a fucking ton of bruises?

Someone like Stiles was what he needed--someone to corrupt and conquer. Someone to set free.


	6. Flirting With Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter confronts Sausage regarding his treatment of Stiles, and she again puts herself at risk with Fleck.

During the bus ride to her apartment, Hunter stared out the window without paying much attention to the dingy Gotham streets. In her short time at Arkham, she’d already seen shocking things and met unusual people, and she wasn’t only referring to the patients. While most of her co-workers seemed okay, she wasn’t wild about several of the nurses, and the doctors treated her more like a piece of equipment than a human being. 

Life was like that everywhere, or so it seemed. There was a ruling class and a working class, and they neither knew nor cared about each other.  
People were disgusting. 

Maybe Willard had a point, preferring rats to his own species. 

Of all the people she’d met in Arkham, Willard and Arthur stood out the most. For some inexplicable reason, they touched her on an emotional level that would no doubt cause problems for her, but Hunter couldn’t help how she felt. 

She’d never found it easy to connect to others. It shouldn’t surprise her that Stiles and Fleck nabbed her interest. Of course she should ignore it. The only thing she could get from interacting with them was trouble. She needed to focus on her job, and leave concern for their physical and mental wellbeing to the trained professionals.

Even though last night she’d seen exactly how concerned the trained professionals were with Fleck’s wellbeing, at least. If she hadn’t cleaned him up herself, he’d probably still be lying in his own blood.

It probably shouldn’t matter. By helping him, she’d put herself at risk. She was probably lucky to get out of his room intact. 

The bus stopped about a block from her apartment. She rented the top level of an old, dilapidated, three-family building. It didn’t feel like home, but nowhere ever had. She often wondered if she’d ever have a real home, one where she felt comfortable.

Walking down the busy sidewalk, she was relieved that she’d taken the overnight shift at Arkham. She preferred to walk home in broad daylight. Somehow it was easier to sleep during the day than at night. At least during the night, she was relatively safe at work. 

She chuckled a little. Safe probably wasn’t the word that came to mind for most Arkham employees.

Hunter trudged up the stairs to her apartment. She locked the door and then searched the place. It was a daily ritual, checking each of the three small rooms, in closets and under the bed. Yes, she had reasons for being paranoid. Yes, her fear should have extended to Arthur Fleck, but she’d been less afraid walking into his room than into this apartment. 

Satisfied that she was alone, she undressed and took a bath before heating soup and leftover mac and cheese for dinner--at this hour, breakfast to most people. That was the thing about the night shift. You were opposite everyone else, but that fit Hunter. She’d never blended with the crowd, anyway, so why would her work shift be any different?

She practiced yoga for a while, hoping to calm her mind before going to bed, but nothing kept her thoughts off Fleck and Stiles. Even when she curled up in bed and closed her eyes, she saw their faces. She heard Fleck’s laughter--an eerie mix of cute and sinister, and she saw Stiles’s vacant look. What were their lives like before Arkham, before Fleck took to murder and Stiles obsessed about rats?

_Don’t think about it. Don’t care about them._

Eventually Hunter drifted off into a world of unsettling dreams. Though she didn’t remember them, she knew they involved Arkham. 

Dusk fell just as she arrived at work. Her first task was to clean the recreation room in her assigned unit and then wash and wax the hallways. 

She was mopping outside Stiles’s room when Sausage Breath--uh, Sam--arrived with patients’ meal trays.

He leered at Hunter before bringing Stiles his tray. At first, he seemed almost decent as he tried to coax Willard to eat. Then his words became nastier.

“Cheese, Stiles. Isn’t that what the mice eat?”

Why would an orderly say something like that? Why would he try to incite Stiles in that way? Attempting to draw him out was one thing, but this was just sick humor.

Sausage finally stepped out of the room, locking the door behind him.

“Hey, weren't you being a little harsh with him?” Hunter asked.

Sausage’s brow furrowed and he curled his lip at her, his dark moustache twitching. “Huh? First of all, how I communicate with patients is none of your business. Second, you haven’t even been here a week. I give you a month, maybe less, and you’ll be as sick of these creeps as the rest of us.”

“If it’s so bad here, why do you stay?”

Sausage stepped close enough that Hunter wrinkled her nose at the first whiff of his infamous breath. “Mind your own beeswax. Like I said, you’re new around here. You should try to make friends instead of enemies.”

“I’m not looking for either. Would you like some gum or a breath mint? I’ve got some in my pocket--”

“Shut it, wench. Just keep mopping the floor.” Sausage grabbed the next tray off the meal cart and slid it through the slot in Arthur Fleck’s door. “Come and get it, Fleck!”

The tray shot back out. Sausage jumped out of the way and cursed under his breath.

“I’d love to shove this dinner down his skinny throat, dish and all.”

“Hey, why don’t you take a break or something?” Hunter suggested. She hated to show any empathy for Sausage, even fake, but at the moment it was better than subjecting the patients to his foul mood. “I can deliver the rest of the food. You’re probably overloaded with stuff to do.”

Sausage narrowed his eyes at her. Then he shrugged. “Sure. Thanks.” He sauntered off. 

Hunter picked up Arthur’s tray and tapped on the door. “Arthur? It’s Hunter.”

She opened the door and stepped inside. He stood near his bed, his arms folded. His green eyes glimmered and he wore a smile that showed off his dimples. The bandages were still on his face, and bruises discolored his pale skin. His lip didn’t look quite as swollen, though, and the cut on it had scabbed over. 

“Hey. Sausage Breath has gone on break, so maybe you’ll want this.” She placed his dinner on the little table.

“Why are you so nice?”

She shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything. Nothing. It’s weird.”

Hunter grinned. _He_ was calling _her_ weird. Fair enough.

“Why do you want to work here?” he asked.

“I need the job.”

He raised an eyebrow. “There’s got to be other jobs. You know I used to be a party clown?”

“I heard something about that.”

His smile turned sinister. “I bet you’ve heard a lot.”

“You aren’t exactly low profile.”

He chuckled. “Hmm. No. Not lately. You’ll never last here.”

“You said something like that last night.”

“Did I? It’s hard to remember. Yeti hit me pretty hard, and I’m already brain damaged, you know.”

Hunter wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or playing with her. Maybe his problems were caused by some sort of physical trauma. She wasn’t a doctor and had no idea how things like that worked.

“You don’t scare easily, do you?” he prodded.

“I never really--“

“Ahh!!!” he shouted and lunged toward her, his hands stretched toward her neck.

Hunter gasped, raising her hands to defend herself, but he never actually touched her. Instead he dropped his hands and laughed, throwing his head back, revealing his slightly uneven teeth.

“Got ya.” He gazed at her with gleaming eyes and batted his long lashes. 

“Sure did,” Hunter replied evenly, though she quivered inside and her heart raced. He’d nearly scared the piss out of her, but she couldn’t let him know it. Men, crazy or sane, liked to be in control. Fleck didn’t know it, but it wasn’t the first time a man had threatened her with violence.

“Hmm.” He studied her carefully, and that rigid grin softened a bit.

“When you’re finished with dinner, send the tray out.”

“You won’t come see me again?”

“Do you want me to?” Why was she even asking?

His shoulders lifted in a slow almost sensual shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

She left quickly, locking the door behind her. She leaned against it and briefly closed her eyes, giving herself a moment to calm down. That’s what she got for flirting with danger. 

The worst part about it was she enjoyed it. 


	7. Aristotle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard finds a new friend, and Arthur is jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story or leaving kudos. I really appreciate it, and I hope you're enjoying it!

After the orderly named Sam, also called Sausage Breath by several patients, left the room, Willard became aware of movement by the rat hole. At first he thought it was Fleck trying to goad him again.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of a small white rat scurrying through the hole. It darted toward the chair where Sausage had left a tray of food and inspected the roll that had fallen to the floor. Willard tried to control his excitement and remain calm and quiet. He didn’t want to scare this adorable little creature that looked so much like his dear Socrates.

Crooking his finger slowly, gently, he spoke softly to the rat. Its little eyes fixed on him before it approached. It was as if the rat knew Willard meant no harm and wanted to be friends.

They were so trusting. So pure compared to wicked humans.

In no time at all, the rat was in his hand, nosing its way up his loose sleeve. Willard closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the feel of a warm little body against his again. It gave him a spark of hope that maybe, in time, things could change. If he played his cards right, he could win this game. He could see the outside again, and when he did, he wouldn't be alone. He'd have friends. He quivered with anticipation and stroked the little white rat.

“We have to sit here and wait. Wait,” Willard said, his voice just above a whisper. “Quietly as a mouse.” His lips curved into a grin. The rat crawled into his hand and Willard stroked its satiny fur. He moved slowly toward his food tray, picked up the cheese, and offered a piece of it to the rat who nibbled it hungrily. 

For several blissful moments, Willard experienced a sense of calm he'd never thought to feel again. He and the little white rat got to know each other. A tickle of tiny feet, a brush of whiskers, a stroke of a finger, and a few gentle whispers was all it took to begin a beautiful friendship.

“What shall I call you? Socrates the Second? No. There will never be another Socrates, and you deserve a name all your own.”

“How about Randall?," Fleck suggested. "He was a real rat."

Willard jumped a bit. Annoyance clawed at his insides and he glanced sharply at Fleck who stared at him through the rat hole. 

“I heard you talking.” Fleck grinned. “There’s no denying it. I won’t spill your secret, though. We loonies have to stick together. I’d be careful with your little friend. If they see him on camera, they’ll set traps for sure. I don't think they'll actually bother calling an exterminator unless the whole fucking hospital gets overrun by rats. That would be a sight. About how long does it take for a building to get completely infested?”

“We’ll ignore him, won’t we, Aristotle?” Willard said, though he took Fleck’s advice and angled his body to better hide his new friend. Aristotle was a perfect name for him.

“You’ll talk to him but not to me?” Fleck curled his lip.

“He’s not annoying.”

Fleck smiled broadly, revealing a lot of teeth. By some stroke of luck, he fell silent for so long that Willard almost forgot he was watching.

Willard stroked Aristotle and fed him the rest of the cheese. Then he let him tunnel beneath the blanket. Willard ate the rest of his dinner--the dry chicken and lumpy mashed potatoes. For Aristotle’s sake, he needed to keep his strength up. 

Willard didn’t bother with the rock hard dinner roll that Sausage had deliberately dropped on the floor. When he finished eating, he slid the tray through the slot in the door.

A few minutes later, Hunter tapped on the door and opened it a crack. Gazing at him with dark, gentle eyes, she smiled warmly. “Goodnight, Mr. Stiles.”

He lifted his gaze to her and smiled ever so slightly, though he didn't talk.

It felt good to respond to her, even in a small way. She seemed as nice tonight as she had yesterday. He wouldn’t develop feelings for her, like he had for Cathryn, but it couldn’t hurt to be polite.

“Ughh! You’re nice to her, too, but not to me?”

“Shut. . .up,” Willard said slowly, his voice practically trembling with annoyance. What was wrong with Fleck? Why wouldn’t he mind his own business?

"I knew you'd talk to me eventually."

Willard turned his back to use the toilet before going to bed, but paused before pulling out his penis. Fleck still stared at him.

“I’d like some privacy please,” Willard said, trying to remain calm.

If possible, Fleck’s smile broadened even more. He giggled, his voice hitching a little. “You think I’m the only one watching you? We’re all on camera twenty-four hours a day. It’s like one extended performance.” Fleck wiggled around, as if dancing while lying on the floor. “It’s kinda fun when you think about it.”

Grinding his teeth, Willard picked up his pillow and placed it in front of the rat hole. He urinated quickly, and then he lay in bed. It was an old, lumpy mattress. Quite uncomfortable, especially without the pillow. Sighing with resignation, Willard retrieved the pillow to find Fleck still staring through the hole. 

Ignoring him, he climbed back into bed. A short time later, the lights went out.

“You’re really sleeping with that rat?”

_Don’t respond. Ignore him, and like a bratty child, he’ll get bored and go away._

“Goodnight, Aristotle,” Willard whispered, caressing the little rat who cuddled against his cheek. “Get back under the covers, or else they might see you. If that happens they’ll take you away, or worse. I’ll do my best to keep you safe. I promise.”

“You’re lucky if you can keep yourself safe in this place. The rat has a better chance than we do.”

“We’ll ignore him. This is none of his business.”

“All right, Stiles. I make a better friend than an enemy, though.”

Willard's lips twisted into an angry grin. “When I was a boy, I hated clowns. They seem harmless, but they’re always hiding something, Aristotle. Something dark and dirty.”

“Dark and dirty? Hmm. Sounds exciting.”

Willard’s stomach clenched, his pulse pounded with annoyance, but he stroked Aristotle slowly, gently. “If you ask me, clowns should be _muzzled_ , possibly _exterminated_.”

Fleck chuckled. “I knew there was more to you than you let on, Stiles. If you give me a chance, you might like me, but if you don’t, I really couldn’t give a fuck.”

Willard glanced in the direction of the rat hole. He couldn’t see Fleck in the dark, but he knew he was there. Through gritted teeth, Willard asked, “Then why are you still talking?”

“Do we have anything better to do? Okay.” Fleck yawned. “Damn those fucking sleeping pills. Don’t you hate how they make us take them to keep us passive? Who needs sleep? I do my best thinking at night.”

“They don’t give me a sleeping pill.”

“Lucky you. Goodnight, Stiles. See you at breakfast.”

Willard closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. Maybe he should resign himself to Fleck’s company, at least until he and Aristotle got to know each other better. No doubt Aristotle had friends, and Willard could scarcely wait to meet them.

_All in good time._


	8. Promises, Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a session with Dr. Seil, Arthur reacts to the _other_ H word.

Lony pored over Arthur Fleck’s files. The man’s entire life was spread out on his desk--all his records, from medical and psychiatric to dental. Amazing how two people born three years apart, raised in completely different worlds, could be so much alike, physically, at least.

Leaning back in his chair. Lony pressed his smooth fingertips together, rubbing them absently while his thoughts churned. Was it luck, fate, or an accident that Fleck had created something as deviously brilliant as Joker? Truly, he shouldn’t have the brain capacity. The man was a mess of contradictions. Selfish and selfless. Stupid and clever. Weak and strong. Bitter and sweet.

He was more than Lony had ever imagined. This had started out as a purely professional endeavor. Now that he’d spoken to the man and looked into his eyes, their relationship would be far more than that. 

Lony gathered the paperwork and locked it in his desk. He spent the next two hours attending to less interesting administrative duties. From a young age, he had migrated toward psychiatry. The human mind fascinated him. The ability to change people’s focus, to control and direct them, was the most powerful weapon in the world. Altering the course of people’s lives, for the better or for the worse, was still manipulation. 

Like his father, Lony had perfected the art of manipulation. He knew how to get people to do exactly what he wanted. Some were easier to control than others, and neither intelligence nor sanity had anything to do with it. Right now he still wasn’t certain if bringing Fleck around would be simple or difficult. That would depend entirely on how much humanity he’d retained and what was most important to him, if anything. 

From what he’d learned from Fleck’s files, he didn’t care about much anymore. He’d spun lots of tales during therapy sessions--most of them contradictory. Saving his own skin seemed to be of the utmost importance, but was it really? He had a history of self harm, but that wasn’t surprising. Violence had been a way of life for him from the first. His mother and her boyfriends had seen to that. 

It might have been easier to reach Arthur before Joker took over, but without Joker, Lony couldn’t have cared less about yet another pathetic nobody. He’d seen more than enough of those, especially during the early years of his career.

He had waited his entire life for Joker, and when he’d uncovered the details of Arthur Fleck’s background, he’d known their paths were meant to cross. It was almost too perfect.

Lony arrived five minutes early for his daily meeting with Arthur. Once the orderly left them alone, Lony and Arthur stared at each other in silence.

Lony wanted to see Fleck’s reaction to being blatantly observed like a zoo animal. Would he break the uncomfortable silence or bask in it?

Fleck blinked slowly, a faint smile on his lips. Was that smile meant for Lony, or was Fleck lost in a daydream? 

Apparently, Fleck had no intention of talking, so it was up to Lony to move things along. “How are you doing, Arthur?”

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me that? You’re the doctor, right? You’re supposed to know so much.”

“If you talk to me, it will help me help you.”

Arthur cast his gaze down, his lashes like long, dark curtains hiding the performance in his intense green eyes. He smiled again and nodded.

“You were in group therapy this morning. How did it go? Are you finding it helpful?”

Fleck laughed and again met his gaze, not bothering to hide his contempt. “What do you think?”

“What I think isn’t important.”

“Oh. Right.” A heavy eyebrow flickered upward and his lip curled in a momentary snarl.

“Do you want to get out of here, Arthur?”

“It’s not about what I want. No matter what, I’ll be in a cage for rest of my life, right? What’s the difference if it’s here or there?”

“No one can predict the future. We don’t know what it holds for any of us.” The best part about those words was that they were true. Anything could happen. Lony had plans. He intended to see them through, but that didn’t mean life wouldn’t send him twists and turns. That was the fun of living, after all. The not knowing. 

He'd believed that Fleck thought the same way. The way he’d taken what life threw at him and instead of hiding in a hole to die, clawed his way through to briefly stand at the top of barbed-wire laced dung pile. He’d told the world to fuck itself, and that was something Lony could relate to. 

No, even if Fleck seemed hopeless now, a man like that wouldn’t give up. 

“If you work with me, Arthur, you might be surprised how much your life can change.”

Fleck laughed and threw back his head to stare at the ceiling. “Ah. Promises, promises.”

“What have you got to lose?”

He stared at Lony again. “Not my mind, for sure. Not money or love. Never had any. I might lose my sense of humor, though, and that would be a fuckin’ tragedy.”

That was both funny and frightening, how close Fleck had come to the truth. . .or not. Lony’s gain didn’t have to be a complete loss for Fleck. At the end of this, they’d both be happier. When Lony arrived here, he’d been prepared for a long journey, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t eager to reach the end. Yet didn’t they say that the journey was more fun than reaching the destination? Fuck them. They never knew what they were talking about anyway.

“Our goal here is no more tragedies,” Lony said. “Our goal is to be--“

“You better not say _happy_.” Fleck’s smile turned to another sneer. Anger shone in his eyes.

Interesting. “The idea of being happy bothers you?” 

Fleck stared, a dark expression on his face that Lony had seen only in the photos in his file. Until now. Gazing through wavy locks of unkempt hair, Fleck's eyes gleamed with hatred. His lips curved into a grim frown. His entire demeanor screamed danger. Excitement and a twinge of wariness darted through Lony. He needed to be careful. Pushing Fleck over the edge before he was ready would destroy his plans.

“I’d like to know why that bothers you.”

“Isn’t my time up?” Fleck’s leg bounced--a nervous tick he hadn’t displayed in quite some time, at least according to Dr. Green’s notes and the video surveillance Lony had been viewing.

“No. I’m here to help, and I won’t put a time limit on that.” Fleck didn’t know it, but all Lony’s time was for him. He was the most important person in Lony’s life, at least for the time being. “Arthur, do you want to tell me why you don’t want to be happy?”

“No,” he said in a small, soft voice. He looked down to his bouncing legs and clamped a hand to his thigh. The bouncing ceased when his wiry fingers bit into the slight curve of muscle in his skinny leg. He lifted his gaze to Lony. “Can I have a cigarette?”

“Not right now.”

Arthur nodded, smiling faintly again.

He’d be allowed a cigarette break later, but Lony wasn’t about to reward him for a lack of cooperation.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” Lony asked.

Fleck shook his head and grinned broadly. “Are we done?”

This time Lony chuckled. “Not nearly, but this is enough for today, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah. That’s what I mean.”

“One more question.”

Fleck rolled his eyes and laughed. “Oh, okay. What is it?”

“You’ve been getting to know your new neighbor.”

“Stiles.”

“Yes. How is that going?”

“He’s not much of a talker.”

Lony chuckled softly. “Apparently you have that in common.”

“Oh, I love to talk--just not to shrinks.”

Still chuckling, Lony continued holding Arthur’s gaze. “I’m going to change your mind about that, Arthur.”

“You can try.”

“You’re not here by choice, but _I_ am. Do you want to know why?”

He giggled. “Not really.”

“I’m here for you, Arthur.”

Arthur continued laughing, but there was no missing the questioning in his eyes--the curiosity and mistrust. Arthur Fleck might be crazy, but manipulating him wouldn’t be easy. Good thing Lony enjoyed challenges as much as he enjoyed winning.


	9. A Work of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur’s session with Dr. Seil stirs old memories. Willard initiates a conversation, and Arthur makes a special sketch in his journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I've been updating every Saturday and plan to continue doing that, but I'm hoping to also update on Wednesdays for as long as possible. If you've been following the story, I appreciate it, and I hope you're enjoying it!

Arthur left his session with Dr. Seil feeling worse than he had since arriving at Arkham. Once he’d embraced Joker, the repressed anger he’d felt his entire life had disappeared. When someone made him mad, he reacted then and there. He didn’t carry anger with him anymore--or so he’d thought. Talking about being “happy” had brought back memories of years of pretending, years of pain--years of playing the part of the clown even when he wasn’t in costume. 

_Put on a happy face._

_You were put here to bring joy and laughter to this cold, dark world._

Fuck this cold, dark world.

Fuck Penny Fleck and her fucking pervert boyfriend. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck Dr. fucking Seil.

For the rest of group therapy, Arthur sat in brooding silence. No amount of prodding and poking from the counselor or even other patients could get him to talk. He scarcely heard what they said. In his mind, he was back in Hoyt’s office, smiling like a jackass while his slimy boss berated him. He was writhing breathless in the street while kids kicked his emaciated body. He was in apartment 8J, waiting on his mother, the woman who had allowed abuse that left him injured beyond repair.

Instead of going outside for exercise hour, Arthur trudged to his room. He wanted to be alone--not that he wasn’t always alone, even in a crowd.

He tried lying down, but only tossed and turned, memories of his old life flashing through his mind like torturous bright lights. He couldn’t escape.

Pacing the room, he clenched his fists, his breathing erratic. If he could just kick something. Punch something. If he could just--

Whack!

Fuck. That felt better.

He struck his head against the door again and again.

“Why are you doing that?” called a high, smooth voice. 

Arthur paused, his chest heaving and his head stinging. He glanced around the room.

“Not that I’m complaining. Since I got here, I’ve been hoping you’d knock yourself unconscious.” 

Stiles. He must be watching through the rat hole. He’d never done that before--not without Arthur initiating the conversation.

“Are you finished?” Stiles asked.

Arthur’s breathing was under control again. His head hurt, but he felt a little better. He lay on the floor, facing Stiles through the rat hole. He could make out only half of the man’s face--one angelic blue eye, a hawkish nose, and slender lips. It again crossed his mind how handsome Stiles was--refined. Rich and educated. Everything Arthur wasn’t.

“So you’re talking now?” Arthur asked.

“That depends. Do you do that often?”

“Why?”

“I’m just trying to prepare myself. It’s noisy. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yeah. That’s the point. It gets my mind off. . .shit.”

Stiles smiled slightly. “I’m surprised you have a mind left, if you do that regularly.”

“I haven’t. . .not for a while.” Not since he’d buried the old Arthur Fleck and let Joker take over. Why had he decided to dig up old Arthur now?

“Why now?” Stiles asked, as if reading Arthur's mind.

“Why do you care?”

Stiles shifted his gaze away. He smiled. “Aristotle, that tickles. Get out of my sleeve.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “Why doesn’t it bite you?”

“I don’t know. They seem to like me. The only one that ever gave me trouble was Ben.” Stiles’s expression darkened. “Big Ben. He was a nasty piece of work. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story.”

A story was just what Arthur needed right now. Anything to take his mind of the past. “Tell me.”

Stiles’s stunning blue gaze fixed on him for a long moment. “No. I don’t think I will. It’s personal.”

Arthur closed his eyes, released a deep breath, and nodded slowly. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Sausage was rousing him for lunch.

“What’s wrong with the bed, Fleck?” Sausage asked.

“Nothing.”

“What did you do to your head?”

Arthur touched his forehead, feeling a sore lump. “I tripped.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Sausage narrowed his eyes. “You start trippin’ like that and we’ll tuck you into a nice, soft room. You want that?”

Arthur leveled his most scornful look at Sausage and raised his middle finger.

Sneering, Sausage grasped Arthur’s upper arm in a bruising grip and yanked him out of his room. So much for not manhandling patients. 

“Go get your lunch, Fleck, and you’d better be a good boy and eat it, or else I’ll make sure you get your nourishment in a way you’ll really love.”

Arthur jerked away from Sausage who glared at him. 

In the cafeteria, Arthur brought his lunch to Stile’s table and sat across from him so that he could admire him. Not many people looked good in Arkham issues clothes, but the blue color accentuated Stiles’s eyes, and the cut of it showed off his broad shoulders. His black hair was brushed so that it shone like glass.

“You know, I have no idea what this is.” Arthur picked up a grayish piece of lukewarm meat. He shrugged and took a nibble. “Still no idea. What do you think it--”

Stiles didn’t speak, but his gaze met Arthur’s with a glimmer of annoyance.

“Okay. I get it. You’re still not talking, except in private to me and Aristotle. I guess I should feel honored.” Arthur grinned. He was starting to feel better. “Speaking of Aristotle, where is he?”

Ever so slightly, Stiles shook his head.

Leaning across the table, Arthur whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him a secret.”

“What are you boys talking about?” Sausage approached to glower. “Must be a one-sided conversation, Fleck, but you’re used to that. I see you’re eating. What is that exactly? Never mind. I don’t even want to know. How about you, Stiles? I see you’re eating, too. Good.”

Sausage sauntered off and Arthur gave him the finger again. He turned back to his plate and picked at the gray meat and peas. Stiles ate most of his food, but he didn’t look any happier about it than Arthur. 

“H. . .hey, Arty.” A short, skinny woman named Amanda turned toward him from where she sat at a nearby table. She was one of the only nice people he’d met since arriving. So she’d stabbed her brother. At least he was still alive. He even visited her once a week. 

“Yeah?”

“Rumor h. . .has it that Y. ..Yeti woke up this morning.”

Shit. That meant he’d eventually be back in the unit.

“W. . .what happened?” Amanda pointed toward his forehead. “Another fight?”

He grinned and shook his head.

Someone at her table called to her and she turned way.

The rest of lunch went quietly. Afterward were more therapy sessions and then recreation time. Arthur was allowed to write in his journal. Sometimes he was given a pen to write in his room, but that depended on the nurse, and he always had to return the pen through the slot in his door. 

Today instead of writing in the journal, he drew an elaborate picture of Stiles and Aristotle. He tried to capture the satiny look of Stiles’s hair, the sharpness of his features, and the intensity in his eyes. Drawing came naturally to Arthur. As a kid, it was one of the only subjects he’d been good at in school. He remembered one teacher who had tried to show him drawing techniques. She had shown more interest in him than Penny. One morning on her way to school, she was hit by a car and never came back. Arthur heard she was paralyzed or something like that. 

He finished the picture of Stiles just as it was time to turn in his pen. At that moment, Dr. Seil stepped into the room. He greeted several patients on his way around the room, but stopped beside Arthur.

“May I see what you did today?” he asked.

Arthur’s stomach tightened. Seil annoyed him, and he wasn’t exactly sure why.

He held out his hand, and Arthur glanced at it. Seil’s fingertips were funny--scarred. Like cigarette burns. Arthur knew those well enough. He’d burned himself at times.

“Arthur?”

“Okay.” Arthur passed the journal to Seil. It wasn’t his original journal, the one that had all his old jokes. He wasn’t sure what happened to it after he’d been arrested. He wondered if he’d ever get it back. This was a new journal he’d been given when he arrived at Arkham.

Dr. Seil studied the drawing carefully. “This is very good. You’ve captured Mr. Stiles very well. Why the rat?”

Arthur looked into Seil’s weathered, bearded face. “Why do you think?”

“I’m a psychiatrist, Arthur, not a mind reader.”

“I guess it has something to do with the rats from the news stories.”

“Ah. Of course. I thought we might have rats here in Arkham.”

“Here?” Arthur feigned shock. He smiled broadly. “That’s crazy, doctor.”

Seil’s penetrating green gaze met Arthur’s. A faint smile curved his lips, partially hidden within his big, graying beard. He returned Arthur’s journal before moving on to another table.

Arthur glanced at Seil from the corner of his eye and thought _you fucker._

It was time for dinner, so back to his room Arthur went, the journal clasped to his chest.


	10. What Happened on the Night Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter comforts Arthur after a nightmare and faces the consequences.

As usual, Hunter arrived a few minutes early for her shift. She placed her jacket and backpack in her locker. Her first task was to deliver dinners. Strangely, this brightened her night. At least she’d get to see her two favorite patients again. Was it wrong that she looked forward to her encounters with Willard and Arthur? Wrong or not, it didn’t change how she felt.

Willard’s room was first. When she stepped inside, he acknowledged her with the faintest smile. At least it reached his eyes. 

“Hi, Mr. Stiles. How are you?” She didn’t expect an answer, but he surprised her by shrugging slightly, his lips flicking upward a bit more. He shifted his gaze to the food she placed on the chair near his bed.

“Hungry?” she asked. He didn’t respond, but she took their brief though wordless exchange as success. “I’ll be back for the tray in a little while, okay?”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she left him alone to eat.

Arthur was next. Unfortunately the rule was to pass his tray through the slot, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t speak to him or look in on him if she wanted to.

“Hey, Arthur. It’s Hunter. Here’s dinner.” She slid the tray inside and waited for a reply. 

Only silence.

It wasn’t like him not to respond.

She peeked through the small glass window in his door. He lay on his side in bed, facing front. Even from a distance, she saw the discolored lump on his forehead.

“What the fuck,” she muttered and entered the room.

“Arthur?” She approached, alert and remembering to keep a safe distance. 

His gaze followed her and he grinned.

“What happened to your head? Were you in another fight?”

“No. Nothing that interesting.” He shrugged, his expression playful.

She was making the wrong call again, but damn it, she couldn’t ignore this. Squatting in front of him, she studied the bruise. “Did a nurse look at this?”

“It’s just a bump.”

“How did it happen?”

“I tripped.”

She looked skeptical. “Does it hurt a lot?”

His grin broadened. “That’s the best part of an injury.”

It was eerie, how he looked happy about disturbing things. Maybe he liked pain. There was no telling what went through his mind. He wasn’t here because he was rational.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“No. I had a disgusting lunch.”

She chuckled a little. “Sounds horrible. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Truly, Hunter wasn’t sure what to do. If she told a nurse about Arthur, no doubt he’d be neglected, just like the previous night. He was obviously lying about his injury. He hadn’t tripped. The chance of getting the truth out of him about anything was slim.

She got an ice pack and returned to his room. When she stepped inside, his eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even. She thought he’d fallen asleep, but he opened his eyes when she approached.

“Here. Try this.” She offered him the ice pack.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“No, you didn’t tell me that. Roll over.”

He narrowed his eyes, his expression somewhere between skeptical and annoyed. Then he did what she told him and lay on his back. She gently placed the ice pack over the lump on his forehead.

“It should take the swelling down.”

“You can’t stop breaking rules, can you?”

“I guess I’ve always been sort of a rebel.”

He laughed softly. “It’s more fun that way.”

“I don’t know about that. Seems like it only gets me in trouble.”

“Trouble comes whether you’re good or bad. Doesn’t matter.”

“Arthur, I’m going to ask you something and I’d really like it if you’d tell me the truth.”

“Yes, I’m single.”

She chuckled again.

“You think that’s funny? Good. Haven’t lost my touch.”

“I was going to ask if someone here is hurting you. Is that how you got that bruise?”

“No one gave it to me.”

“You can tell me the truth.”

“Even if it were true, what do you think you can do about it? Complain? You’d be fired. You’re probably going to be fired anyway, unless something worse happens first.” Arthur shifted uneasily.

“Sit still.” She adjusted the ice on his head and rested a hand on his bony shoulder. He tensed beneath her touch and seemed to stop breathing. His green gaze shifted to hers and for an instant longing flashed across his glittering eyes. The expression tugged at her heart and the urge to keep touching him--hug him even--almost overcame her. 

This was a side of Joker--of Arthur--she hadn’t seen before. It was unexpected, to catch this glimpse of the man he had probably been before turning to a life of violence.

Before her eyes, his gaze turned cold again, and his lips curved into an exaggerated, icy grin. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“You’re right. Other people are waiting for dinner.” She stood and headed for the door.

“Hey.”

She turned and he tossed her the ice pack.

“You better take that with you,” he said. “You don’t want to get fired this fast, do you?”

“Slide the tray out when you’re done.”

“You don’t want to come back for another talk?”

“I have a lot of work to do.” She left quickly, clinging to the ice pack, her stomach clenched. 

Arthur disturbed and fascinated her. That was a dangerous combination. 

She finished delivering meals, and then she emptied trash baskets until it was time to collect the dishes. To her surprise, Willard pushed his through the slot. One of the nurses remarked that his communication skills had improved lately, though he still wouldn’t talk to anyone. Arthur had sent his tray out as well. From the little she knew about him, Hunter guessed that meant he wasn’t trying to please her, but was still a little angry from their earlier encounter. If he wanted to see her again, he’d have kept his tray inside, knowing she would come for it, rules or not.

During her break, she stepped outside into the yard used for patients' daytime exercise breaks. One of the other housekeepers was there as well, smoking a cigarette. Toni had worked at Arkham for about five years. Tall and thin with a pasty complexion and dark brown hair she wore in a neat bun, she had a pleasant but generic look about her. Hunter couldn’t guess her exact age, but she could be anywhere from mid-thirties to late forties.

“Hey." Toni glanced at Hunter who approached and gazed at the stars that tried to shine through the smoggy Gotham sky. Toni offered her a cigarette, but Hunter had never smoked.

“It’s not a bad night,” Hunter said, just to make conversation. “Kind of warm.”

“Yeah. So, how do you like it here so far?”

“It’s fine.”

Toni gave a snort of laughter. “Fine. Right.”

“Do you know much about Arthur Fleck?”

A grin flirted with Toni’s lips. “You mean Joker? He’s about as big a freak as you’ll find.”

“He doesn’t seem that bad.”

“Don’t let him fool ya. Looks like a harmless little creep, doesn’t he? You heard what he did to Yeti.”

“Yeah. I heard.”

“I remember the day they brought him here. Looked like a bag of bones. Sadistic grin. Nasty green hair. And those eyes. They’re--“

“Hypnotic.”

“I was going to say wild. Like some kind of feral animal trapped in a human shape.”

Were she and Toni talking about the same guy? Yes, Arthur was crazy, scary, even, but he had a gentle side. Hunter was sure of it.

“Do you know how many people he’s hurt since he got here?” Toni went on. “He’s had fights with multiple patients--granted he didn’t start them, but that’s not the point. He’s injured three orderlies, two nurses, and the first week he was here, he probably would have done God knows what to Dr. Green, but she ran out of the therapy room before he could get his hands on her. The slippery little bastard wriggled out of his restraints somehow.”

“He was restrained?”

“All the time at first. He’s sort of mellowed, I think, but you can’t trust him at all. First rule of thumb, don’t trust anyone here. Letting your guard down is a good way to get hurt--or worse. Especially with Fleck.”

Toni was giving her sound advice, but Hunter knew in her heart she wouldn’t take it. She needed to judge people for herself, and so far despite his strangeness, she liked Arthur.

“What about Willard Stiles?” Hunter asked.

Toni blew a smoke ring. “Speaking of weirdoes. Just when you think you’ve seen everything, someone like Stiles shows up. The rat guy.” She curled her lip. “Totally disgusting.”

Hunter sighed. Maybe once she was here as long as Toni--if she even lasted that long--she’d feel the same way about the patients. Right now, she just couldn’t.

“I’d better get back to work.”

“Talk to you later.” Toni blew another smoke ring. It floated off and disappeared into the Gotham smog.

Hunter spent the next few hours washing windows and vacuuming offices. 

It was nearly midnight when she went to mop the corridor outside Willard's and Arthur’s rooms. Before starting, she looked in on them. Willard lay with his back to her, apparently deeply asleep. 

She moved to Arthur’s room and frowned at the sight of him tossing restlessly. Was he okay?

 _Just look away and get back to work, Hunter, or get a nurse if you’re that upset._ Would a nurse even help? At least Nurse Julie wasn’t on duty. It was Nurse Doreen. She seemed nicer.

Arthur jerked and twisted, trapped in what appeared to be one hell of a nightmare.

Hunter was about to turn away, but instead let herself into his room. He moaned and spoke incoherently, his eyes shut tight in his haggard face.

“Arthur,” she said, but he didn’t wake. She gently shook his shoulder. “Arthur, wake up.”

He jumped, his green eyes wide, unfocused, and wild--as feral as Toni had described, but frightened, too. 

“Arthur, it was just a--“ He reached for her, taking her by surprise. Her first impulse was to shove him way, but he wasn’t trying to hurt her. She wasn’t even sure if he was fully awake. He clung to her, tremors wracking his skinny frame. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him. Heat emanated from him, soaking into her. He smelled of damp clothes and fresh sweat, musky but not unpleasant. His hair carried the scent of cheap hospital shampoo and a hint of cigarette smoke, probably from an earlier break since cigarettes weren't allowed in the rooms. Arthur gulped and laughed--not a mocking or even jovial sound, but a strained one, something between laughter and sobs. 

She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. These emotions he roused were dangerous. They would get her in trouble at the least, maybe killed at the worst. This was Arkham. He was one of the most dangerous patients. Despite this, she couldn’t tear herself away. 

“It’s okay. It was just a nightmare.” She hugged him close and stroked his hair. It was thick and damp. Soft brown waves wound around her fingers. It took a few minutes to calm him. Finally he rested against her, no longer trembling, his breathing slow and even, his head tucked against her shoulder.

He drew a long, slow breath and released it, sitting up. He cast his gaze down, his thick, dark lashes slick with tears. A few tendrils of hair clung to his perspiring forehead. 

He swiped a hand over his face and swallowed visibly, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Hunter rested a hand on his knee. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He opened his mouth, about to speak.

“Hunter, I need to talk to you for a moment.” Nurse Doreen stood in the doorway, her expression grim. “Please wait at the nurse’s station.”

Hunter’s gaze locked with Arthur’s before she left his room. The nurse closed the door, remaining with Arthur, while Hunter numbly walked to the nurse’s station. She was in trouble now.

A few minutes later, Nurse Doreen approached.

“Hunter, you’re new here, so I’m going to cut you some slack. You can’t just walk in and handle a patient like Arthur Fleck.”

“He was having a nightmare, and--“

“I know you only wanted to help.” The nurse held up her hand, a hint of compassion beneath her cool hazel eyes. “But you can do that by calling one of us if you think something is wrong with a patient. I’ll let it go this time, but next time, I’m going to make a formal complaint to your supervisor. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“All right. You may go.”

Hunter nodded, still shaken more by Arthur than by the confrontation with the nurse.

She spent the rest of the night focused on her duties, and she stayed as far away from Arthur’s and Willard’s rooms as possible. 


	11. Arthur is Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard observes an odd confrontation between Joker and Hunter. Aristotle faces danger, and Willard contemplates his feelings for Arthur.

The next day during exercise hour, Willard put his time to good use with a vigorous walk around the courtyard. The high concrete walls didn’t allow much of a view, or any at all, really. The courtyard itself was rather bare, the ground more dirt than lawn with a few random trees scattered around. Several red and white flowers grew in a sunny patch of ground and were meticulously cared for by a patient named Amanda. She seemed like a timid soul who generally kept her gaze down and spoke with a stutter. Sometimes she talked to Arthur, but usually she kept to herself. 

When Willard passed by on his walk, she glanced at him shyly and grinned while continuing to pull weeds. Obviously she wasn’t allowed to use gardening tools of any kind, but that didn’t stop her. The flowers were a nice change to the overall colorless hospital. There were no flowers inside. Nothing remotely cheerful. That was fine with Willard. Home hadn’t been cheerful, either, but at the very least it had been comforting. Sometimes when he lay on his lumpy bed, his worn hospital blanket his only defense against the coldness that filled Arkham day and night, he thought about home. The dark wood and antique furnishings in the mansion had always reminded him of a cave. He felt relatively safe there, away from the stress of work and his hateful boss. 

His lips flickered into a quick grin. Other than bickering with Fleck, Willard preferred to remain silent. He wasn’t certain why Fleck affected him, but the man was impossible to ignore. 

“Hey, Stiles.”

_Speak of the devil._

Willard closed his eyes briefly. No. Why now? He wouldn’t allow Fleck to ruin his exercise time. More than ever, it was important for Willard to stay healthy. He had Aristotle to think about. 

It didn’t take long for Fleck to catch up to Willard and fall into step alongside him. Willard cast him a sidelong glance.

“It smells a little better out here, doesn’t it?” Fleck grinned. “Inside smells like bleach and pee.”

Willard had noticed those smells inside the hospital, but he hadn’t thought much about them. Having taken care of his ill mother for so long, he’d grown accustomed to smells such as cleansers and urine. Smells had been the least of his worries at the time. Between caring for her and holding a job that didn’t completely cover all the bills, he had neither the time nor the inclination to concern himself with the smell of the house.

“Why are you walking so fast?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe I’m trying to get away from you.”

Arthur laughed. 

They continued their brisk pace, and since Arthur kept quiet, it was almost tolerable. Willard’s gaze darted around the courtyard. Hunter stepped outside to clean the recreation room windows. It was strange to see her during the day. Usually she worked nights. Maybe her supervisor had asked her to work an extra shift.

On their way past her, she smiled at them. “Hi, Willard. Hi, Arthur.”

Willard smiled slightly and nodded, but Fleck said coolly, “Arthur is dead.”

At that, Willard stopped walking. Both he and Hunter stared at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Hunter asked.

Fleck had also stopped walking to stare at her with a snide grin, which was more a twist of his lips. “Arthur died last year. I’m Joker. Get used to it.”

“Okay,” Hunter replied, though she looked a bit apprehensive. “Arthur, are you all ri--”

“You don’t listen, do you?” Fleck’s green gaze bore into her. Willard didn’t like that look. It was mean. Threatening. It reminded him of his horrible boss, Mr. Martin. “I said, Arthur is dead.”

Hunter held his gaze, but didn’t speak. Maybe she didn’t know what to say. That’s often how Willard felt when confronted by Mr. Martin’s nasty, unreasonable attitude. He bristled. Hunter had been nothing but nice to both of them. He angled himself between them and glared at Fleck, but Joker didn’t seem to notice. All his attention focused on Hunter.

“I’ll just get back to work,” she said softly.

“Good idea. And stay away from me.” Fleck huffed and stalked off. 

Willard turned to Hunter who forced a smile and shrugged. “I really need to finish these windows. Didn’t mean to bother you guys.”

“You didn’t,” Willard said, his voice scarcely a whisper.

Her expression relaxed a bit and she turned back to her work.

Fleck stood beneath a willow tree, his eyes half closed. He moved his body in a slow rhythm, his long, thin legs almost gliding over the patchy grass. His skinny arms extended, his wrists and hands floating gracefully on the air. He moved like something between a marionette and a ballet dancer. His dance was untrained and should have looked awkward, but instead it was strangely beautiful. Willard approached, fascinated but still angry.

“You didn’t have to be mean to her.” Willard’s words broke Fleck’s trance. 

Fleck stopped mid-step and opened his big green eyes wide. “What?”

“I said, you didn’t have to be mean to her. She’s been kind to you. I’ve seen.”

Arthur blinked slowly, his expression snide. “Through the rat hole.”

“Why not?” Willard clenched his fists, his heartbeat quickening. “It’s what you do. Watch me. It’s not so much fun to know that I’m watching you, too.”

Arthur laughed. He stepped so close that Willard could count his long eyelashes and feel the warmth of his breath against his face. Willard usually hated confrontation. He had to be almost mad with rage to face down anyone. Yes, Fleck angered and frustrated him, but he also stirred other feelings. Curiosity, maybe? As much as Willard hated to admit it, Fleck interested him. 

Before the conversation could continue, they were called inside. Exercise time was over. Willard sighed. Time for more therapy before dinner. There was a movie tonight, and though he’d rather spend time with Aristotle, if he went to the movie, he’d be able to smuggle a few pieces of popcorn for his little friend. He hoped it was an interesting movie, at least.

Before leaving the courtyard, he passed by Hunter again and smiled at her.

“Bye, Willard,” she said, and went on washing windows. Hunter was less confusing than Fleck. Willard wouldn’t allow himself to trust her too much, not after making that mistake with Cathryn, but he liked her. Maybe someday he would know if it was safe to trust her. It would be nice, though not necessary, to have a friend--a human friend.

After therapy, but before dinner, everyone was sent to their room for rest. Willard wasn’t tired, and this was a perfect time to bond more with Aristotle, if his little friend was around. He often disappeared during the day, not doubt spending time searching for food with his family. There were other rats here in Arkham, but they kept well hidden. They were smart--far more intelligent than many humans.

Willard was glad when no sooner had he stepped into his room than Aristotle poked his little nose out of the hole between his room and Fleck’s.

The rat scurried up to him. Willard picked him up and lay in bed, curling onto his side to hide Aristotle from the cameras. 

“Did you have a busy day?” Willard asked softly. “It was probably more interesting than mine.”

The rat stared at him, his little nose twitching. Sometimes Willard felt like he could almost hear Aristotle’s thoughts.

Soon he was so absorbed in his friend that he didn’t hear anyone approach until it was too late.

Sausage stepped into his room. “Hey, Stiles. Chow time. Ready for some really good--Who are you talking to?”

Willard jumped, his heart slamming in his chest. He stared wide-eyed at Sausage whose lips curved into a nasty grin. 

“I said, who are you talking to?” His gaze never leaving Willard, Sausage placed the meal tray on the nearby chair.

Willard only glared. He’d never spoken to Sausage and had no intention of starting now.

“Get off that bed.” Sausage strode toward Willard who refused to move. If the orderly searched his bed, he’d find Aristotle. Willard couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen to his friend.

“Off!” Sausage grasped Willard’s arm and hauled him off the bed.

From the corner of his eye, Willard saw Aristotle drop off the bed and scurry through the hole to Fleck’s room. His heart beat even harder and he clenched his fists.

If Fleck saw Aristotle, if he was watching and knew what was going on, he could alert Sausage to the rat. Fleck was crazy and had a mean streak. There was no telling what he’d do.

Sausage pulled off the blankets and shook them out. “See, Stiles. Nobody here except you. Now eat.”

The orderly left, closing the door behind him.

Willard hurried to the rat hole to find Fleck staring through it, wearing a big grin. The day’s growth of stubble dusted his jaw line. His eyes glistened and he held Aristotle close to his face.

“He’s not too bad for a rat.” Fleck stroked the rat’s beautiful white fur with his thin fingers.

Fleck could have made a scene. He could have shouted for Sausage or a nurse or anyone to come exterminate Aristotle, but he hadn’t. Still, Willard didn’t trust his motives. Just because he hadn’t turned Aristotle over to their keepers didn’t mean the rat wasn’t still in danger. 

It was Willard's fault Aristotle allowed Fleck to handle him. Before Willard, the rat hadn't trusted humans. Would their bond destroy Aristotle just as it had destroyed Socrates?

“Give him to me.” Willard tried to keep his voice from quivering but didn’t entirely succeed.

Fleck’s smile broadened and his hand tightened around Aristotle. “It would be easy to just break his little neck.”

“If you do that, I swear I’ll kill you, just like I killed the man who murdered Socrates.” Willard ground his teeth, his fists clenched so tight that his nails bit into his flesh. His vision blurred from terror and fury.

“I got nothing against this rat.” Fleck caressed Aristotle. “Killing _is_ fun, but I don’t kill _for_ fun. I kill people who fucking deserve it.” He reached through the hole and placed Aristotle into Willard’s trembling hand.

Relief washed over Willard and he drew Aristotle to his face to kiss him.

Fleck’s smile faded and his fingertips momentarily stroked the back of Willard’s hand. Willard jerked a bit, taken aback. Their gazes locked and Fleck swallowed visibly before withdrawing his hand and disappearing from the hole. Willard edged even closer to stare into Fleck’s room.

Fleck wrapped his arms around himself and paced the room. His food tray rested on the nearby table, but he didn’t so much as glance at it. Willard watched him for a few minutes, wondering if he’d return. It wasn’t like Fleck to end the conversation.

Willard shouldn’t care. 

Still, Fleck had protected Aristotle. He had returned him. A hint of trust kindled inside Willard. That was dangerous. He needed to be careful. No one around here could be trusted. Everyone had ulterior motives. Even rats had ulterior motives, as Ben had proved. People were even less trustworthy, especially crazy people, like Arthur Fleck.


	12. What Happened During the Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Willard hold hands. Hunter confronts Sausage. Dr. Lony Seil witnesses it all.

Lony sat back in his chair, stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. Smiling slightly, he stroked his beard while staring at two monitors in his office. One focused on Fleck’s room and the other on Stiles’s.

He wasn’t surprised to see a white rat moving between their rooms. Though he couldn’t hear their conversation, he saw Fleck pass the rat to Stiles and stroke his hand. He also saw that Stiles didn’t reject his touch. Very interesting.

Yesterday, when Lony had seen Fleck’s drawing of Stiles and the rat, his gut feeling had been the rat in it was sketched from life. Not that Fleck wasn’t capable of abstract thinking. Lony had seen his original journal, the one that he’d had the night of Murray Franklin’s murder. Most of Fleck’s life had been based on abstract thoughts. Yet the sketch of Stiles had been different than most of the ones in Fleck’s journal. Instead of expressing a twisted fantasy, Fleck seemed to want to capture the reality of Stiles. His emotional state when drawing that had clearly been different than when he’d made most of the sketches in his old journal.

Lony hadn’t yet had the chance to closely examine the journals Fleck had kept since arriving at Arkham. It was on his long list of things to do. Despite his eagerness, Lony needed to take his time. At the moment, things were going even better than he’d expected. He hadn’t planned on Fleck’s interest in Stiles, or in Hunter.

Gathering information about Stiles was easy. Hunter was slightly more difficult, since she wasn’t a patient and he wasn’t her direct supervisor. Still, he had already started investigating the somewhat mysterious housekeeper. Few people, even those with experience and a psychology degree, would handle a patient like Fleck so fearlessly. Even more, she clearly affected Fleck emotionally. Lony wanted to know more about her.

Reluctantly, Lony rose from his desk and stretched, rolling his tight shoulders. It was nearly time for the movie, and from what he’d just seen in the video, both Stiles and Fleck were going to attend. Lony wanted to see if they interacted during the movie. He wanted to witness it firsthand, without even the monitor between them. 

Though certain interactions between patients were allowed and even encouraged, sexual relationships were against the rules for obvious reasons. Touching of any kind was generally against the rules, but Lony had no intention of stopping any type of relationship Fleck might form, be it with another patient or with a member of staff. Such a connection could only help Lony’s cause in ways he had hadn’t even dreamed about. Unlike many cold blooded killers, Fleck was a creature of emotion. He hadn’t killed to _feel_. He had killed to _stop the pain_ , at least that had been his perception of his killings. Lony believed that if he grew attached to someone, if they made him feel good, he would do anything to protect them. While Lony didn’t share this weakness, he understood it.

What he’d read in Fleck’s file indicated that when Joker took over, Arthur had lost the ability to connect with others emotionally. Since other psychiatrists and therapists had failed to draw him out, they assumed he was a lost cause. Traditional Arkham methods had failed, but Lony had no interest in tradition. He wanted to find Arthur Fleck, and he would try anything that might uncover him.

After locking his office door behind him, Lony headed to the recreation room where the movie was about to start. When he arrived, several patients, under the watch of two orderlies, were assembled in front of the screen. 

Fleck and Stiles sat side by side toward the back of the room. Stiles stared blankly at the screen, but Lony already knew that was an act. Fleck’s gaze shifted between the screen and Stiles, lingering on the latter. 

The lights dimmed a little--enough to imply that it was movie time, but not so much that the orderlies couldn’t see any obvious disturbances among the patients. 

The movie was an old black and white romantic comedy. Right up Fleck’s alley. He grinned and even laughed a bit before falling silent to stare at the screen. Lurking in the doorway, Lony folded his arms across his chest and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. 

Partway through the movie, he wondered if there would be anything worth observing tonight. Then it happened.

Fleck glanced at Stiles from the corner of his eye. Fleck reached out slowly, discreetly, and touched the back of his hand to Stiles’s. Stiles hadn’t moved his gaze from the screen, even for a moment. His expression hadn’t changed. . .until now. Stiles blinked quickly a few times. His fingertips tightened on his leg, but he didn’t withdraw from Fleck’s touch. 

After a moment, Fleck moved his hand against Stiles’s, stroking it knuckles to knuckles. Stiles’s fingers relaxed, no longer clawing his own leg. His gaze slanted toward Fleck who smiled, staring at Stiles with a look that was nothing short of ravenous. Lony half expected Stiles to pull away, but he didn’t move.

Minutes passed before Fleck turned his hand over and used his fingertips to caress Stiles. His long, thin fingers slid between Stiles’s, pausing when Stiles responded by tightening his fingers around Fleck’s.

Excitement and revulsion built inside Lony. Excitement because this was such an unexpected but welcome twist. Revulsion because needy relationships like this got under his skin. He couldn’t fathom ever feeling that way about anyone--of wanting a simple touch. He understood the need for a good fuck every now and then to relieve tension, but this desire for a _connection_ for _approval_ that Fleck couldn’t shed, that tainted Joker--

That’s what Lony was here to fix.

Joker was too good for this. Too perfect. Fleck might have created him, but he couldn’t handle him. Joker was bigger than Fleck. Stronger. One way or another, Joker and Fleck would part ways. Lony was doing Fleck a favor by easing him through the process in a way that would benefit them both.

The orderly Sam, aptly nicknamed Sausage Breath by the patients, slunk toward the back of the room, his beady eyes raking the patients. Like a sadistic animal trainer, Sausage looked for reasons to taunt and tame. If he saw Fleck and Stiles holding hands, it would be a disaster on many levels. A smile flirted with Lony’s lips, but he wrestled it under control. He straightened, prepared to intervene, if necessary.

Fleck’s gaze shifted to Sausage and he abruptly withdrew his hand from Stiles’s. Fleck had survival instinct. That’s the one thing Lony had counted on when he formulated this plan. Fleck would do anything to survive. Giving him others to cherish and protect was just an extra insurance plan Lony hadn’t imagined possible, but life was always full of surprises.

“Excuse me, please, Dr. Seil.”

Lony glanced behind him. Hunter stood there with a meal cart filled with popcorn.

He smiled slightly and stepped aside so that she could enter. She and the orderlies passed out the popcorn to those who wanted it. When she approached Fleck and Stiles, the latter accepted popcorn from her with a smile. 

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered back before offering Arthur popcorn. He ignored her, his grin fading. Lony didn’t miss a slight quiver around his mouth--not a mirthful one. Interesting. 

Last night Fleck had clung to Hunter after a nightmare, but from what he’d heard and now seen, he’d withdrawn from her today. Apparently Fleck’s sexual feelings toward Stiles--Lony had no doubt his attraction to the rat man was sexual--didn’t disturb him as much as his feelings for Hunter. Did he view her like a mother figure? A friend? A lover? All three? The only person he’d ever been close to had been Penny Fleck, the mother who betrayed him. If Hunter reminded him of her, then of course he would be upset, confused, and skittish. 

Fleck had generally responded better to women than to men, even in therapy. Still, other than an unhealthy attachment to his mother and a one-sided obsession with a neighbor in his old apartment building, Arthur hadn’t developed emotional attachments to anyone. Clearly Hunter reached him. Now he was drawing back. 

Hunter moved away from Fleck, but her gaze lingered on him for a moment. Once her back was to him, Fleck looked at her with an expression of longing. He frowned, lips quivering, and then he laughed.

“Shut up!” a patient shouted from the front row.

Fleck laughed louder and harder. Some screamed at him while a few others joined his laughter. 

Amanda, who sat directly in front of Arthur, turned to him, tears streaking her face. “D. . .d. . .don’t c. . .cry, Arthur. It’s ok. . .kay.”

“Come on, Fleck. Disrupting everyone, as usual.” Sausage Breath approached, grasped Arthur’s arm and hauled him out of his seat.

“Hey, ease up on him!” Hunter glared at Sausage Breath.

“I told you before not to question how I handle patients,” Sausage Breath snapped, his grip tightening on Fleck’s skinny arm.

Stiles reached for Fleck’s hand and squeezed it briefly. Glancing at him, Fleck met his gaze before doubling over and choking on his laughter.

“Let’s go.” Sausage tugged Fleck who stood his ground, twisting and yanking from Sausage’s grip. “Come here, you little--”

Fury in her eyes, Hunter slammed down the containers of popcorn she’d been carrying and strode toward Sausage Breath and Fleck.

“ _I’ll_ take it from here, Sam.” Lony stepped between Hunter and Sausage Breath. His hand fell heavily on the orderly’s shoulder.

Sam turned to Lony, his angry expression fading to one of subservience. “Sure, Doctor Seil. I was just--”

“Go attend to the others.”

“Yes, sir.” Sausage Breath joined the other orderly in calming the rest of the patients.

Arthur narrowed his watering eyes and clamped a hand over his mouth, his thin body convulsing in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Breathe,” Lony said calmly, holding Arthur’s gaze. “And count with me, Arthur.”

It didn’t take long for the episode to pass.

“Have a seat.” Lony gestured toward the chair. “Finish the movie.”

Arthur stared at him, anger and confusion in his eyes. It was as if he didn’t believe Lony wanted to help him. Drawing a shaky breath, Arthur settled onto his chair and wiped his eyes.

Lony turned to find himself staring at Hunter. Their gazes locked for a moment. There was no missing her expression of gratitude, and Lony allowed himself to smile. Gaining her trust would be valuable.

She returned his smile and finished passing out the popcorn. 

Lony stepped toward the back of the room again. For the most part, everyone had calmed and returned their attention to the movie. Stiles whispered something to Fleck that Lony couldn’t hear, but Fleck responded with a nod. 

When the movie ended, Lony lingered until the patients were locked safely in their rooms. He intended to keep a closer watch on Sausage Breath. If the man interfered in any way with Fleck’s progress, he’d be _history_. 


	13. Dreams and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter and Willard share Joker’s bed, or do they? Dr. Seil asks Arthur about murder and Thomas Wayne.

“Arthur,” Hunter called softly from outside his door.

A jolt of excitement and anxiety darted through him. His stomach clenched. He’d told her to stay away, but he didn’t want her to. 

“I’m sorry. Joker. I should have said Joker.” She opened the door and peered inside, her dark eyes wide beneath her arched brows. “Can I come in? Please?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Sure.”

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay after what happened at the movie.”

“Oh. That. It wasn’t anything. Haven’t you heard that laughter is the best medicine?”

She smiled a little and stepped toward him. “Then you weren’t upset? I heard that you laugh when you’re--“

“I laugh whenever the fuck I feel like it.” He rose from bed and stepped closer. She was a couple of inches taller than him, and slender, though she probably weighed more than he did--not that it mattered. She was still a woman and he--well, Arthur had never conformed to anything, whether by choice or by nature. Hunter stirred lots of feelings, from tender to horny. It sometimes made him dizzy, but not now. Not when his inner clown took over. It’s weird. He didn’t even need the suit and makeup anymore, not after that one night. They say clothes make the man, but that’s bullshit. Not that he wouldn’t love to have his sexy red suit back, and even the face paint, but he didn’t need it.

“That’s how you are with just about everything, isn’t it?” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She was so close, her eyes like velvet, her full lips near enough to kiss. “You do and say whatever the fuck you want.”

He grinned and nodded before taking her face in his hands and covering her mouth with his. He expected her to pull away. She was in his hospital room. They were on camera. Was she as crazy as he was? Apparently, because instead of jerking away, she kissed him back--enthusiastically.

Moaning softly, she ran her fingers through his hair.

Arthur slid an arm around her waist and hugged her slender body to his bony one. The softness of her small breasts pressed against his chest. He tightened his hold, thrusting his pelvis against her, his dick hard and tingling. Groaning, Arthur kissed her deeper, parting her lips with his tongue. Her tongue met his with hungry strokes. He turned her around and backed her toward his bed. He pushed her onto it--not too hard. He knew how to treat a lady. Hunter lay on her back, staring up at him with passion in her eyes.

“Arthur--Joker--please, please don’t stop touching me.”

He pulled off his shirt, not caring about how cold Arkham was. Soon he’d be warmer than he had been since coming to this fucking awful place.

Hunter pulled off her uniform top. Underneath, she wore a plain white bra. Sort of ugly, like the ones his mother used to wear. He jumped at the sound of a fist smashing a wall and glanced sharply to the corner of the room where Penny stood beside a scowling, lean, tattooed man. Arthur’s heart raced. A queasy feeling twisted his stomach and terrified laughter bubbled in his throat, but he bit it back.

_Fuck them._

He forced himself to laugh--a high-pitched raptor-like sound. Soon it wasn’t forced. It became a war cry. In a mirror hanging behind Penny and that horrible man, Arthur caught his own reflection. His eyes practically glowed within a frame of blue diamonds, and his teeth gleamed against his painted red smile. 

“Fuck off!” Joker snarled at his mother and the man. They faded.

“Joker.”

Arthur turned back to the bed where Hunter sprawled naked, beckoning him. She reached for his hand and tugged him on top of her. He was naked, too. His skin slid against hers and he glanced toward the mirror that reflected their entwined bodies. He still wore his makeup, his hair dark green. He kissed her again, his hard, aching dick trapped between their bodies. He shifted his hips, creating friction.

“Oh, Arthur.” She panted, reaching between them to wrap her hand around his erection.

“What are you doing?” Willard asked in his high, smooth voice.

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. The rat hole was enormous now, practically an archway between his room and Willard’s. 

Willard stood near the bed, his inky hair slicked back, his blue eyes fixed on Arthur and Hunter. Barefoot, he wore his hospital pants, but no shirt. He was all broad shoulders and smooth, pale skin, except for the dark hair dusting his chest. The little white rat perched on his shoulder.

“You’re doing _that_ without me?” Willard glared.

Grinning broader, Arthur offered his hand and Willard took it. The rat ran down Willard’s arm and balanced momentarily on his and Arthur’s joined hands before leaping to the floor. Arthur tugged Willard toward the bed. Willard kissed him. Hard. He bit Arthur’s bottom lip, and it felt good, but Arthur wouldn’t let any man be his boss. Never, never again.

He grasped a handful of Willard’s hair, not too hard, but hard enough. Their gazes locked and Willard smiled. Arthur kissed him this time, controlling the pressure of their mouths. He slid his tongue along Willard’s firm lips. They didn’t part like Hunter’s. Willard was tighter. Tense. Arthur would ease him out of that.

“Arthur!”

Willard grunted softly and reached down to fondle Arthur’s dick. His cool palm slid over it, making it swell and pulse. If he didn’t stop it, Arthur was going to come right th--

“Arthur! Are you okay in there?”

Arthur rolled over and fell out of bed, landing with a thud.

He opened his eyes, breathing heavily, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his heated body despite the usual Arkham chill.

“Are you okay?” Willard stared at him through the small rat hole.

“Yeah.” Arthur said breathlessly, pushing damp hair from his face. 

That was a fucking intense dream. He used to have dreams almost like that, but while awake. Sometimes he even missed those dreams.

“You were making a lot of noise, and--”

“Shh!”

Footsteps approached. Arthur jumped back into bed and feigned sleep, though his heart beat fast. The footsteps paused outside his door. After a moment, he heard them again, moving away this time.

He hopped off the bed to stare through the hole again, but Willard was gone.

Briefly, he wondered if he’d been there at all, if this wasn’t just an extended dream.

He lay back in bed, his dick still hard. Closing his eyes, he slid his hand down his pants and caressed himself. Usually he liked to take it slow and get a nice buildup, but he was too horny from the dream, and what a dream--Hunter and Willard, both in his bed, with Joker in control. Grinning, he stroked faster. His breathing quickened. Pleasure built, and he didn’t try to stop it, or stifle a groan of relief as he came. It was messy, but worth it.

His eyes still closed and a dreamy smile on his lips, he sprawled on his back, his mind pleasantly blank and his pulse slowing to its normal rhythm. It wasn't long before the coldness of the hospital seeped into him again. With a relatively satisfied sigh, he curled up beneath his blanket and drifted to sleep.

* * *

At breakfast, Arthur sat with Willard, who kept his blue gaze cast down at his bowl of oatmeal. Arthur admired his dark, shiny hair and chiseled face, but he really wanted to look into those blue eyes again.

“Last night--” Arthur began and paused when Willard’s gaze snapped toward his. “Could you really hear me in your room?”

Seconds passed before Willard replied, “You were loud.”

Arthur chuckled softly. He didn’t doubt it. Even now, thinking about the dream turned him on.

Willard ate slowly. Ignoring his own breakfast, Arthur stared at him, watching his slender lips curve around his spoon. Arthur's heart beat faster and he shifted in his chair. Unconsciously, his legs bounced, releasing some of his pent-up energy.

“Stop staring at me,” Willard said, clearly annoyed. Fuck him. One minute he responded to Arthur, touching his hand, checking on him when he heard him dreaming, and the next he withdrew.

“Is that an order, rich boy?” Arthur didn’t think about his words. He just said what he felt. At one time, he would have been concerned that his words might upset Willard--make him uncomfortable. He was beyond that now, especially when someone frustrated him as much as Willard.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw your house on TV. You grew up rich. It must have been nice.”

Willard cast his gaze down again and toyed with his oatmeal. He placed his spoon aside. “I’m not rich.” Willard spoke so softly that Arthur almost didn’t hear him. “And it’s. . .it’s not my house.” A strange look passed over Willard’s face. His fist clenched on the table. 

“What do you mean? I saw the news--”

“It’s not my house.” Willard raised his voice and glared at Arthur, his expression so intense that his eyes quivered. 

Sensing danger, Arthur tensed a little, but continued to press. “But I saw--“

“I said it’s not my house!” Willard screamed, standing so quickly and forcefully that he spilled his oatmeal.

“Hey, what’s going on, Stiles?” An orderly approached.

Willard stood. His fists clenched and his chest heaving, he glared at Arthur with icy blue eyes. Fuck, his eyes were so, so beautiful, especially when they were full of emotion. Why couldn't it be different emotions, though? _Good_ emotions. Arthur didn't want Willard to be angry with him, but even anger was better than nothing. Stirring Willard was so much _fun_ , but he wanted Willard to enjoy it, too.

Arthur held his gaze and smiled broadly, though a sick feeling twisted his empty stomach. He shouldn’t give a damn about Stiles, and he’d given up feeling guilty when he’d embraced Joker--or so he thought. Right now he felt awful. His smile faded as the orderly guided Willard to another table. 

After breakfast, Arthur met with Dr. Seil. In the therapy room, Arthur sat on the chair across from Seil, leaned back, and crossed his legs. Smiling faintly, he stared at the psychiatrist.

“How are you, Arthur?” 

“Fine.” He grinned, imagining the exaggerated red smile around his mouth.

“I’d like to talk about last night.”

_How does he know about my horny dream?_

“Your episode during the movie.” 

“Oh, that.” Arthur chuckled. “You know about my condition.”

“What do you think triggered last night’s episode?”

Arthur shrugged. “Who knows?”

“I’ve noticed you talking to one of the housekeepers. Hunter, I believe.”

Arthur didn’t reply, but continued holding Seil’s gaze. He was too observant, even for a psychiatrist, but Arthur wasn’t stupid. Yes, his mixed-up feelings for Hunter had triggered his episode, but he could have controlled it sooner. Part of him basked in the chaos he’d caused while in that state.

“Does she upset you?” Seil asked.

“No.”

“Do you like her?”

“Like? That’s pointless.”

“Why? She seems friendly toward you.”

Arthur shrugged again.

“How about Willard Stiles? You’ve been spending time with him. Do you like him?”

“Didn’t I just say that’s pointless?”

“Friendship is pointless?”

“I’ve gone this long without it. I don’t need anyone.”

Seil stared at Arthur for a long time. There was something unsettling about those green eyes. An almost forgotten image from Arthur’s dream flashed across his mind--Joker in the mirror. The eyes staring back in the frame of blue diamonds. Why hadn’t he noticed before that Dr. Seil’s eyes were much like his own? Maybe that was just a figment of his imagination, too.

“When we first met, you said nothing could change for you, and I told you that wasn’t true. You have to be open to change, Arthur. I know it’s not easy to let people in--to open up to them, but not everyone is--”

“Not everyone is awful, right? You know what happened to the last guy who told me that.”

Seil’s eyes widened a bit. “How did it feel? Killing Murray Franklin?” He leaned forward and rubbed a finger over his bristly mustache. The salt-and-pepper facial hair covered a lot, so it probably shouldn’t surprise Arthur that until now he’d missed the scar above Seil’s upper lip. Unconsciously, Arthur lifted his hand to his own face and traced the almost identical scar above his lip. Maybe he was getting crazier, seeing so much of himself in Dr. Seil.

He laughed softly.

“Arthur?” Seil prompted, ignoring his laughter.

“Sorry. What was the question?”

“How did killing Murray Franklin make you feel?”

Arthur continued rubbing his lips. He needed something between them. “Can I have a cigarette?”

Seil took a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. He passed the cigarette to Arthur who snatched it with another grin. Seil lit it and Arthur leaned back, inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes and slowly released the smoke.

Arthur opened his eyes and stared at Seil. “Relieved. I felt relieved.”

“Anything else?”

“Powerful.”

The faintest smile tugged at Seil’s lips. He leaned back in his chair. “You’ve said that you believe Thomas Wayne was your father.”

Arthur’s smile faded. He took another drag on the cigarette and nodded. “He was. They tell me it’s not true, but I know it is. A person just knows sometimes.”

“I believe you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur smirked. He'd been through this before with others. “You mean you believe that I believe he’s my father.”

“No. I believe he’s your father.”

He was lying, of course. It was a new attempt to gain Arthur’s trust. No one would ever believe Arthur Fleck over the word of Thomas Wayne.

“Why?” Arthur ventured. “Why do you believe me?”

“Because I know men like Thomas Wayne buy people’s trust. They don’t earn it.”

Arthur grinned. He flicked his tongue over his lips before dragging on the cigarette again. “Sounds about right.”

“How did you feel when you found out he was killed during the riot you inspired?”

Arthur glanced down at his chewed nails. “How did I feel?” He lifted his gaze to the doctor’s again. “I felt pretty fucking good.”

“If you could talk to the man who killed, Wayne, what would you tell him?”

“No idea.” Arthur drew one last lungful of smoke. “I’m sure he had his own reasons for putting bullets in Wayne and his wife. I might ask why he let Bruce live, though.”

“Are you upset that he let the kid live?”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. He frowned and shook his head as he squashed out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “No. It’s not his fault his father was an asshole. Part of me almost feels--” Arthur shook his head. “Fuck.”

“Part of you almost feels what?”

“Nothing.” Arthur smiled broadly. Joker’s smile. “I don’t feel anything anymore.”

Seil smiled back. “So you say. All right, Arthur. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“No.”

Seil nodded and called for the orderly who escorted Arthur back to the group therapy room. He sat across from Willard who didn’t look at him.

Afterward, in the recreation room, while Arthur wrote in his journal, Willard joined him at the table.

“They took my house,” Willard said quietly. “And I’m not rich. When I was a boy, my parents had money, but I didn’t get any of it.”

Arthur lifted his gaze to Willard’s. Those beautiful blue eyes were calm again, but not cold. Arthur’s belly tightened and his heart flipped in his chest. 

“Sorry,” Arthur said. “But at least you grew up with money.”

“Money isn’t everything, you know.”

Arthur grinned. “Only someone who had it would say that to someone who’s never had any.”

A little smile tugged at Willard’s lips.

Arthur turned back to his journal, though it wasn’t easy to write with Willard staring at him and sitting so close they were almost touching. 


	14. The Killings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter is moved out of Arthur and Willard’s unit, and Dr. Seil digs into her past.

Hunter awoke sweating, her heart pounding. She’d dreamed someone was chasing her, but she couldn’t see who it was. All she knew was that if they caught her, they’d hurt her--if she let them. She’d fight of course, but usually in dreams it was hard to get away. Even harder than in reality, at least from what she recalled. Maybe it was because dreams were her own doubts and fears. She couldn’t escape from them.

“Shit.” She sighed, closing her eyes and brushing damp hair from her face. A glance at her clock showed that her alarm was about to ring, so she turned it off before the annoying buzz made her even more jittery. 

The dream left her with a bad feeling. She quickly checked her apartment, even though she knew she was alone. In the shower, she kept peering out of the curtain toward the locked door. After dressing quickly and eating a granola bar, she left for work. Life was pretty bad when she could hardly wait to get to Arkham so she wouldn’t be alone. 

She looked forward to seeing Willard and Arthur, though she wasn’t sure if Arthur wanted to talk to her. Ever since she’d comforted him after his nightmare, he’d been angry at her. She tried not to let it get to her. After all, he was in Arkham for a reason. It shouldn’t surprise her that his reactions didn’t necessarily make sense, or that he had mood swings. Both the hospital rules and common sense told her not to get involved with patients, but she already had feelings for Arthur and Willard. Strange, because Hunter rarely got attached to anyone. She had little opportunity and less inclination to form relationships, no matter how much she hated living alone. 

No sooner had she punched in at the hospital than her supervisor called her into her office.

“Hunter, we’re moving you to a different unit.”

Her heart sank. That meant she wouldn’t get to see Arthur and Willard.

“I’ve had complaints about you,” her supervisor went on. “That you’ve broken rules about dealing with patients and because of this you’ve upset one in particular. Arthur Fleck.”

Here it comes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Her supervisor didn’t look convinced. “The rules are clear about how to handle patients, not to mention I don't think you fully understand how dangerous your actions were. Arthur Fleck would just as soon kill you as look at you.”

Hunter wanted to say that she didn’t think Arthur would hurt her, but she stifled the impulse. What did she know? She was just a housekeeper with no medical or mental health training. Arthur had murdered several people, though she couldn't help wondering if he had good reasons. Not every murder victim was innocent. On the other hand, just because she felt a connection to Arthur and found him attractive didn't mean he wasn't crazy.

How bad was that? She must be a terrible person. He and Willard were patients in a mental hospital. Thinking about them in a romantic way was wrong. Unethical. Guilt washed over her, but it didn’t stop her feelings for them, and the feelings weren’t just sexual. Yes, she found them both attractive, but she connected with them on a deeper level. She enjoyed talking to them. It fit in with the rest of her fucked up life that when she found people she wanted to be with, they’d be Arkham inmates.

A smile tugged at her mouth.

“You think this is funny?” her supervisor demanded. “If we weren’t so short staffed right now, you’d probably be fired. We’re willing to give you another chance, but if you break any more rules, we'll have no choice but to dismiss you. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

"Fine. You can go."

Hunter went to her new unit. She spoke as little as possible to patients and staff members. She focused on doing her job as efficiently and unobtrusively as possible. Without Willard and Arthur to break up the night, her shift dragged. The only good thing was that she didn’t have to put up with Sausage Breath. No doubt he was the one who’d complained about her, or maybe it was Nurse Julie or Nurse Doreen.

It didn’t matter now, at least that’s what she told herself. Still, she couldn’t help worrying that Sausage Breath and possibly others might be mistreating Arthur, Willard, and even the other patients. She couldn’t get the image of Arthur bleeding on his bed out of her mind. Maybe she could find a way to at least ask about him and Willard, see how they’re doing. 

She shook her head and continued mopping a seemingly endless corridor. No. Her interest in them got her in trouble to begin with. If she inquired about them, it would only make things worse.

Just because she couldn’t see them didn’t mean she’d stop thinking about them, though. Once people like Willard and Arthur got into your heart, it was nearly impossible to get them out.

* * *

The rest of the week dragged by. With no one to talk to, both at home and at work, Hunter found her life in Gotham to be little different than the one she’d left behind. Except, of course, no one here knew about her past. She’d been honest on her application and during her interview. Maybe she hadn’t elaborated on certain things, but the HR person who had interviewed her hadn’t asked too many questions. Hunter had assumed they would have an in-depth talk before any hiring was done, even for a housekeeper, but apparently Arkham was desperate for employees. Few people lasted very long.

Trapped in her own world of depression, bad memories, and daily drudgery, she sometimes wondered if she wouldn’t be better off and happier as a patient instead of an employee. No. Then she’d be at the mercy of people like Sausage Breath, and that went against her nature. Like Arthur, she’d probably end up in trouble all the time. 

Hiding out in her apartment wasn’t helping her emotional state, so she signed up for a 24-hour gym that was about a five minute walk from Arkham. It offered boxing classes, which was her main reason for joining. Though she’d taken a few self-defense classes, she wanted something regular that made her feel like she was empowering herself in a dangerous world.

She hoped it would be a positive way to deal with her issues, but instead of easing her mind, it forced her to relive certain events. When she hit the heavy bag, it had changing faces. Too bad beating it up didn’t give her the satisfaction she craved.

She thought about Willard and Arthur often. How were they doing? Was Willard responding to people? Had Arthur been in any more fights? Was Sausage Breath goading them? It gnawed at her that she couldn’t see for herself. Yeah, she was only a housekeeper, but she wanted to think that in some small way she'd helped them. 

Maybe that was her ego talking. Toward the end, Arthur had wanted nothing to do with her.

At the start of her Sunday night shift--she worked Friday, Saturday, and Sunday since she was the newbie and no one else wanted to work weekends--her supervisor told her that Dr. Seil, the hospital’s Chief of Psychiatry, wanted to meet with her.

This surprised Hunter, and not in a good way. Had she done something else wrong? Had she inadvertently harmed a patient, maybe Arthur or Willard? She must be in big trouble if Dr. Seil wanted to talk to her, because obviously a man in his position had nothing to do with housekeeping. 

During the elevator ride to Dr. Seil’s floor, she tried to calm herself. 

_Breathe slower. Don’t panic._

But, damn, she needed this job. 

Of course she could find other work. It was more than desperation that caused her concern. If she left Arkham, then she’d probably never see Arthur or Willard again. It shouldn’t matter. She scarcely knew them. Maybe she was crazy after all, feeling such attachment to a pair of dangerous men. 

Hunter should know better. Wasn’t it bad enough that trouble had already found her more times in her life than she cared to think about? Why was she seeking it out? 

What if that was her personal madness? That despite her past, she still went looking for danger?

All too soon she stood outside Dr. Seil’s door. She hesitated a moment and then tapped on it firmly.

He opened it and held her gaze with intense green eyes. He was an inch or two shorter than her--nothing too significant, but he exuded the power and confidence of six-foot-five man. His wiry salt-and-pepper beard didn’t hide his smile.

“Hunter, please come in.”

“Hi, Dr. Seil. Have I done something wrong?”

He continued smiling and shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. In my opinion, it’s others who’ve done something wrong, but we’ll get to that in a little while. First, I’d like us to chat a bit. Have a seat.” He gestured toward the chair facing his desk. 

His words and manner were no doubt meant to disarm her, but instead warning signals went off inside Hunter. Dr. Seil seemed pleasant enough, but there was something about him that made her uncomfortable.

While she settled onto the chair he’d indicated, he sat behind his desk, leaned back and continued studying her with those unsettling eyes. There was something about those eyes and his entire face that--

Arthur. He resembled Arthur. Strange at it might seem, and easy to miss, as well, since Dr. Seil had so much facial hair and was a healthy weight, he definitely looked like Arthur.

“You haven’t been here long, Hunter, but you’ve already made quite an impression on several people, including two of my patients.”

“I don’t--“

“Please.” Dr. Seil held up his hand. “Don’t feel like you have to lie or defend yourself. I’m not accusing you of anything, except maybe putting yourself in danger.”

“I’ve been warned and I promise I won’t break any more rules.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Hunter, I said no lies. Breaking rules is what you do best, but some rules should be broken. I know that’s not a conventional attitude, but it’s the truth. Now, because of the liberties you’ve taken with my patients, I’ve taken some with you. I checked the references you listed on your application and I did some research on your life before Gotham.”

Hunter bristled a little. What did he want? Not that she didn’t agree that maybe they could have checked into her background a little more before hiring her at a mental hospital. 

“You’re an interesting woman. Many times people in your situation are patients rather than employees in places like Arkham.”

“Are you firing me because of my background? If you are, no problem. I’ll punch out and leave. Otherwise, why bring this up now, after I’ve been hired?”

His smile faded, but he continued holding her gaze. His expression wasn’t angry or even accusing. It was as if he sensed that grinning at her would neither relax her nor gain her trust. 

“I don’t want you to leave Arkham.” He shook his head. “Actually, I’m interviewing you right now for a more important position than housekeeper.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I don’t have any kind of training or a college degree or anything.”

“No, but you have a knack for reaching problem patients. That’s not something you can truly learn from a book, but before I ask you to consider a slight change in your duties, I need to make sure you’re willing and able to handle it. Does this sound interesting to you? If not, you can return to work and everything will continue as it has been.”

“What is it you want me to do exactly?”

“First, I’d like you to tell me about the killings.”

_The killings._

Hunter drew a deep breath and held it for a few heartbeats. She should have known this was coming. As soon as he said he’d delved into her past, there’s no way he could have missed the killings.


	15. The Sketch and the Straightjacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard and Arthur discuss Hunter. Tempers rise, and things heat up between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. The last chapter left off with a bit of a cliffhanger about Hunter's past. This chapter focuses on Arthur and Willard, but the next one will answer the question about Hunter and the killings. Thank you for reading this story, and I hope you're staying well!

With help from Arthur, Willard learned how to bond with Aristotle out of view of the camera. The best positions were on the floor facing his bed and in front of the rat hole. The latter wasn’t Willard’s first choice because Arthur was usually there watching. Talking. Prying into Willard’s life. What troubled Willard most was that he was starting not to mind. Even worse, part of him liked Arthur, and that wasn’t good. He’d started to like Hunter, too, but he hadn’t seen her in days. Rumor had it she’d been moved to another unit. It made sense that if she wasn’t forced to work around Willard and Arthur, she wouldn’t make a point to pass by their rooms, if just to say hi. If the situation were reversed, he probably wouldn’t bother, either. 

At least he hadn’t allowed himself to become too comfortable with the idea that he’d found a friendly face in this hellhole. Arthur was friendly, but he was also crazy, and he couldn’t be trusted. Or could he? Willard couldn’t forget how Arthur had protected Aristotle. 

Right now, Arthur was in the recreation room, probably writing or drawing in his journal. Willard had caught a few glimpses of the journal and it was clearly the work of a madman. He had some artistic talent, though, warped as his sketches might be.

Instead of going to the recreation room to write, draw, play games, or watch television, Willard had decided to go to his room to “rest.” He hoped Aristotle would be there so they could continue bonding. His intelligent little friend had already learned several commands. 

Partway through a training session, Sausage Breath entered Willard’s room.

“What are you doing over there in the corner, Stiles? Jerking off?”

Though Aristotle disappeared through the hole, Willard’s heart still palpitated. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Sausage Breath got hold of the rat.

Willard glared over his shoulder at Sausage Breath. He refused to speak to the man, no matter what.

“You know if you’re just sitting there doing nothing, there’s a chair. Unless you’ve taken up yoga or something.” Sausage Breath snorted with laughter. “One thing I can say about you, Stiles. You’re a great conversationalist.” Sausage Breath closed the door and his footsteps faded down the hall.

“Aristotle?” Willard called softly. “Are you still there?”

“He’s right here.” Arthur stretched out on the floor by the hole, holding Aristotle against his face.

“You’re back.”

Arthur grinned. “Did you miss me?”

Willard beckoned Aristotle with his finger and the rat squirmed out of Arthur’s grip and into Willard’s hand. 

“I have something for you,” Arthur said.

This piqued Willard’s curiosity. What could Fleck possibly have for him? “What do you mean?”

Arthur extended his graceful hand through the rat hole and offered Willard a rolled-up page from his journal.

Glancing at it warily, Willard hesitated for a moment before taking it. He unrolled it and gazed at a rather good sketch of Hunter.

“Why would you give me this?” Willard asked softly.

“You were curious about her. Why she’s not here anymore. I saw how you looked at her.”

“And I saw how you treated her. She was kind to you.”

Arthur shrugged.

“Why were you nasty to her?”

“Me? Nasty?” Arthur’s big eyes widened even more as he feigned innocence. “I wasn’t--“

“Yes. You were. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn't asked to be moved away from this unit because of you.”

“Oh come on. She’s not going to take anything any of us says seriously. We’re loonies, remember?”

“She’s still a person. I know what it’s like to be treated badly, and it’s not a good feeling.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed and he laughed, though anger shone in his eyes. “Are you kidding? All my life I’ve been treated like dirt, and the rich boy is going to fucking tell me what it’s like to feel bad?”

“What’s with the obsession with rich people?” Willard demanded. “Is that all you think about?”

“Rich people are mean. They don’t give a fuck about anyone!” Arthur scowled, his green eyes flashing. He was weirdly attractive like this, but also a little scary and extremely maddening. 

“I know! People in general are like that, not just rich people, and I’ve already told you, I’m not rich!” Willard screamed.

Arthur broke into peels of laughter. Overcome by rage, Willard thrust his hand through the rat hole. He wasn’t even sure of his intention. All he wanted was to shut Fleck up, to stop his goading.

“You fucker!” Arthur grasped Willard's hand in both of his just as Willard raked his nails across Arthur’s cheek. Arthur yanked so hard that Willard smashed against the wall. He thought his arm might break, but Arthur released him. Willard rolled away from the hole and lay on his back, panting.

“Hey! Stiles! What’s going on in here?” Sausage Breath stomped into the room again.

Willard tilted his head toward the orderly, but didn’t speak.

“Get your butt up and into bed.”

Still shaking, Willard did as he was told, not because he wanted to placate Sausage Breath, but because he needed to get as far away from Arthur as possible.

No sooner had Sausage Breath left Willard’s room than he heard him enter Arthur’s.

“What the hell happened to your face, Fleck?”

Willard tensed, waiting for Arthur to tell all--that Willard had reached through the rat hole and drawn his blood. That Aristotle visited Willard all the time and the hospital was probably infested with rats.

“I itched.” Arthur chuckled.

“Oh really? So you gouged your face? What are we going to do with you, Fleck? I guess we’ll have to restrain you for your own good.”

The door closed and footsteps echoed in the hallway. Moments later there were more footsteps. They entered Arthur’s room.

“All right, Fleck. This can go easy or it can go hard,” Sausage Breath said. “Are you going to--Ah! Fuck! Get him, Jimmy!”

Willard smiled slightly until the struggling, grunts, and Arthur’s breathless laughter sent a twinge of guilt through him. His smile faded and he winced when the wall between their rooms shook. He wondered who had landed against it.

“That’s it. Behave yourself, Fleck. I’ll check on you in a little while to see if you’ve calmed down.” Sausage panted.

Willard heard him and Jimmy leave Arthur’s room. He jumped out of bed and peered through the hole. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, but Willard heard him laughing nearly to the point of gagging. He had to be on the bed. After a while, the laughter died down to raspy breaths.

“Arthur? Are you all right?” Willard asked.

“I’m fucking great.”

“You swear a lot.”

Arthur chuckled. “What the fuck else is there to do in this place, and why do you care if I swear? Why are you even asking if I’m okay? You clawed half my face and now I can’t even move.”

“Why can’t you move?”

The bed creaked and with a thud Arthur toppled to the floor and wriggled his way toward the hole. His damp, disheveled hair clung to his perspiring face. Four bloody scratches marked his pale cheek, but his lips curved into a huge, eerie grin. “I’m in a fucking straightjacket. Thanks for that.”

“It’s not my fault. You wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“I know.” Arthur’s grin broadened even more, if possible.

“Why didn’t you tell them I scratched you?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. “And let them know about our secret rat hole?”

Willard didn’t know what to say. Arthur Fleck confused him. Sometimes he felt like the man wanted only to toy with him. Other times it seemed like in his own warped way, Arthur genuinely desired Willard’s friendship.

“What do you want from me?” Willard murmured, more to himself than to Arthur.

“I wish I could touch you right now.” Arthur’s smile faded along with some of the wildness in his green eyes. His entire expression softened. It was almost like he was another person.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Willard balled his hand into a fist so tight that it ached. Then he relaxed and reached through the hole. He brushed hair back from Arthur’s forehead. The sensation of soft brown curls and damp skin stirred something inside him. Heat ignited in his core. It flared through his pelvis and stirred him, making him hard. He trailed his fingertips gently over Arthur’s bloody cheek. The scratch marks had stopped oozing, but they must be sore. It was just recently that the marks left from his fight with Ben had started to fade from Willard’s face. He remembered how they felt.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” Willard held Arthur’s gaze. “But you just kept pushing.”

Arthur smiled. “Yeah. I tend to do that.”

“Do you miss her at all?”

Arthur closed his eyes. Thick, dark lashes fluttered against his pale skin. “You mean--”

“You know who I mean.”

“Yeah. I miss her. I didn’t want her to go away. I just--I don’t know what I wanted.”

“Women are hard to trust, aren’t they?”

“Everyone is hard to trust.”

“I wonder if she thinks about us.”

“Who knows?” Arthur rolled onto his back, his eyes still closed. The artery along the side of his neck pulsed steadily. Drawn by some strange impulse, Willard trailed his fingertip along it. Up and down. The faintest caress.

Arthur swallowed visibly and hummed softly. “I really wish I could use my hands right now.”

 _I wish you could, too_ , Willard thought, his heart beating faster. The urge to slide his hand down his pants to fondle himself almost overcame him. 

This was wrong in so many ways. Arthur Fleck was annoying. He was crazy. And he was a man. 

It wasn’t that Willard had never thought about what it might be like to be with a man, although most of his daydreams involved women, but even traditional fantasies like that made him squirm emotionally. Until Arthur, the thought of touching someone, of being touched, upset him. It wasn’t that part of him didn’t _want_ to be touched, but he didn’t know how to handle it. Cathryn had hugged him a time or two. She had even touched his face when she’d come to his mother’s wake. Willard had wanted to lean into her touch, but he’d frozen instead. He always froze when someone tried getting close to him--not that many people had ever tried.

Willard pulled his hand back. “Are you going to be all right, Arthur?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Hopefully they’ll take this off in a little while, if I _behave_.” The word dripped distaste. “What I’d really love to do is punch Sausage in the face. Or rip off his balls.”

“When he comes back, don’t try anything, Arthur. It will only end badly for you.”

“But I’ll drive them crazy.” He grinned. “Sometimes it’s worth it.”

“Just. . .will you please don’t do it today?”

Arthur opened his eyes and turned to meet Willard’s gaze again. “Why do you care?”

“I probably shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Okay.” Arthur smiled, blinking slowly, seductively. “If you want me to behave today, I will.”

“Good. I think they’ll bring dinner soon.”

“Unfortunately.”

Aristotle appeared in the hole. Apparently he’d been climbing around inside the wall for quite some time.

Arthur looked thoughtful. “I wonder if that rat can chew through this straightjacket?”

“Probably, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not right now.”

“Sounds like you might have plans for the future.”

“Maybe.”

“Want to share?”

“Maybe.”

Arthur rolled his eyes again, his expression playful. “You know, Willard, this might be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“We’ll see.” Willard rose, walked to his bed, and curled up on his side, his back to Arthur.

Unconsciously, his hand strayed to the front of his pants where he was still hard and aching. He rubbed himself a few times, his eyes closed. Then he pulled his hand away, his face warm.

It wasn’t that he never touched himself, but it had always seemed dirty. Wrong, somehow. 

He recalled the first time he’d met Socrates, who had been stuck in a glue trap. Willard had taken the little white rat to the bathroom where he’d used cooking oil to free him from the trap, uninjured. His mother had knocked on the door. Though Willard managed to keep Socrates hidden from her, the crazy old woman had seen the oil on his hand and chastised him.

“Willard! You’re too old for that,” she’d said.

Even now, it was hard to believe that she’d said such a thing to a man in his thirties. 

“You need to get yourself a girl,” she’d said.

Willard had never even thought about bringing a woman into his life. Or a man. Not in his situation. He wouldn’t even know where to begin, and even if he did find someone, how would he explain his mother, his job, and most of all his rats? No. It was better that he stay alone.

Even now, he should ignore his feelings for Arthur. The man was a confessed murderer who would never be free. At least Willard had a chance. He hadn’t confessed and they had no conclusive evidence that he was directly involved with Mr. Martin’s murder. He’d best not get too attached to Arthur.

At least Hunter was gone. Yes, he missed her, and if she was genuine, they might have a chance for some sort of friendship or maybe even romance once he was released from Arkham. 

Now he was getting ahead of himself. He’d probably be here for a while, and he doubted Hunter would be back.

At least he had a memento. He reached for the sketch of Hunter that Arthur had made. An odd sensation enveloped him when he thought about it. A picture of someone who’d touched him drawn by someone else who touched him. 

Something tickled his leg. A little lump moved under the covers, traveling upward until Aristotle poked his twitching little nose out. Willard smiled and stroked the rat. His racing pulse calmed.

“I can trust you, Aristotle. I don’t have to wonder whether we should be friends. For us, it’s meant to be.”

Closing his eyes, Willard waited for dinner to arrive. He hoped that tonight it would include some cheese.


	16. Sharp Objects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lony hears a tale of murder and invites Hunter to assist with Arthur and Willard’s treatment.

Despite his insatiable curiosity, Lony waited patiently for Hunter to respond to his inquiry about the killings.

A year and a half ago, she had killed two men who had broken into her house, attacked her, and her adoptive family. Her mother had been killed during the attack. Though Hunter’s case had been acquitted due to self-defense, the killings had been brutal.

Hunter stared at Lony. Emotions blazed in her dark eyes. 

“Well?” Lony prompted.

“You’ve apparently done your research, so you know I killed two men in self-dense. What more can I tell you?” He credited her with sounding calm and in control.

“Much more. What I learned are facts of the case. According to your sister, the men were hiding in your basement. They held her and your mother at knifepoint, tied them up, and were raping them when you walked in from work.”

Hunter nodded, still holding his gaze. 

When she didn’t speak, Lony continued, “One cut your arm while chasing you into the living room where you grabbed a fireplace poker. After a brief struggle, during which he cut you two more times, you stunned him with the poker and rammed it through his chest while he was unconscious. Then you nearly severed his head with an axe.”

“I had to make sure he didn’t wake up,” Hunter said softly.

 _No worries there_. “Perfectly understandable. You then picked up the fireplace shovel and returned to the kitchen where the second man was still raping your sister. After knocking him unconscious, you stabbed him repeatedly in the back with a kitchen knife. Have I remembered the details correctly so far?”

“Yes,” Hunter’s voice was soft.

“Then you freed your sister who called the police while you tried to resuscitate your mother who had been strangled by one of the attackers.”

“You know it all.”

“At least I know the story how it was presented.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I said there should be no lies here. Your story is quite believable, Hunter, even to a jury.”

“It’s what happened,” she said coldly. Unflinching, she held his gaze. “Those guys had no business breaking into our house, attacking us, and killing my mother. I’m sure they didn’t expect to end up dead themselves, but I guess that’s what happens when you fuck with people. Sometimes _you_ get fucked.”

Lony smiled, a big, knowing, happy smile. Hunter didn’t return it.

“That’s very true, Hunter. Before we continue, tell me just one thing. The second guy, after you knocked him out, you then grabbed a knife and stabbed him several times--just to make sure he couldn’t hurt you any more?”

“That’s right.”

“According to the report, he was stabbed thirty five times.”

Hunter stared at him, her dark eyes burning into his. “I wasn’t counting.”

“You did all that before freeing your sister and trying to revive your mother?”

“Yes.” Her lip twitched in a momentary sneer. 

“How did it feel? Killing them? Taking away there power?”

“What do you want me to say, Dr.? That I enjoyed it?”

“Did you?”

“I enjoyed turning the tables and giving them what they deserve.”

“Any regrets?”

A humorless smile curved her lips. “Not one.”

“If you had the chance to kill again, would you take it?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether I was provoked. What do you think? That underneath I’m a serial killer and those guys freed my inner beast? They were rabid animals who needed to be put down, and I did what I had to do. If someone attacked me again, I wouldn’t think twice about defending myself. I know you’re probably like the other psychiatrists and counselors I talked to after the incident. You want to see me break down and say I was terrified and I feel awful about what happened or that I’m afraid of what I’m capable of.”

Lony studied her carefully. That wasn’t what he was looking for, but knowing it’s what she thought was helpful.

“The truth is, I do feel awful about what happened. I wish I had my mother back, and that she didn’t go down like that, but I’m not afraid of myself or what I did, and I sure as hell don't feel bad about killing those bastards.”

“I believe you.”

“I probably just ruined my chances of helping out with Arthur and Willard. If so, then I really am sorry about that because I’d help them in any way I could, but if you think I’m bad for them, then it’s probably better to find out now. That’s the point of this meeting, right?”

“Right. And for the record, Hunter, I don’t think you’re bad for them. Quite the opposite. Willard in particular responds to you in a positive way, and the fact that Arthur hasn’t even tried to harm you is an excellent sign.”

Because of Arthur’s interest in Willard, Lony had recently taken over the rat man’s case as well. Now he had two star patients, and if this meeting continued as planned, he’d have a new assistant in treating them. These arrangements might make things a little difficult, at least at first. Conscientious or troublesome staff members who couldn’t mind their own business would no doubt question his methods. They might even create issues for him with the hospital board, but he’d deal with such problems when they arose. 

Dr. Green had little problem turning Arthur Fleck over to Lony. Despite her years of experience with dangerously insane patients, something about Fleck got under her skin. It was a lovely talent he had. Lony admired it. 

Since Willard was so new to Arkham, his doctor hadn’t become too attached to him yet. At first the young psychiatrist had dug in his heels a little when Lony decided to take over his high profile patient, but he hadn’t been too difficult to manipulate. 

“What is it that you want me to do for them?” Hunter broke Lony’s thoughts.

“You’ll still work in housekeeping, but I’m having you moved back to their unit. You’ll be allowed to visit them, a long as it’s acceptable to them. Basically, I’d like you to continue gaining their trust and developing friendships with them, if possible.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. For the first time she looked truly uncomfortable. “You know, I genuinely care about them as people. I don’t want to play them. When we’ve talked, it hasn’t been forced. I don’t want to lie to them or lead them on.”

Lony held up his hand. “Of course not. I don’t want that, either. I don’t expect you to do anything that you feel is wrong. Arthur and Willard have shut themselves off from reality, but something about you has breached the barriers they’ve created. I want you to help me help them, Hunter. Are you willing to do that?”

She drew a deep breath and released it slowly. Her gaze shifted toward a corner of the room. Despite his eagerness to engage her in his plans, Lony waited quietly. No matter how much he wanted her to be part of his plan, she wasn’t necessary. He’d manipulate Arthur without her or Willard. They would just make things a little more complicated, but in a magnificent way.

“Yes.” Hunter met his gaze again. “I’m happy to help Arthur and Willard any way I can. I can’t promise that I won’t get attached to them, though. If we become friends, then it’s real the thing. I won’t be able to just turn it on and off.”

“Of course not. We’ll do our best to maintain professionalism, though. I can offer you certain freedoms, but Arkham has some rules that even I can’t break.”

“I understand. I’d never do anything to hurt them.”

He smiled warmly. “That’s why I’ve asked you to help.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s about time for dinner to be served. I’ll walk you down. You’ll be in time to help hand out dinner to the patients, including Arthur and Willard, of course. I’ll speak to the staff about our plans and also let your supervisor know so she won’t give you any more trouble.”

“Thank you, Dr. Seil.”

“It’s my pleasure, Hunter.”

_My sincere pleasure._


	17. Friends and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter reunites with Arthur and Willard, and Willard shares a secret with Arthur.

Lying on his lumpy bed, Arthur stared at the cracked ceiling and grinned. Jokes tumbled through his thoughts. He’d have to write them in his journal the next chance he got. At least being stuck in Arkham didn’t stop him from coming up with new material. 

Chuckling softly he extended his arms and swept his hands back and forth in graceful, rhythmic motions. It felt good, so he closed his eyes. Swaying in his bed, he imagined himself on stage. Bright lights. Drinks pouring and people talking and laughing in the background while he spouted his jokes in a flawless, conversational manner. Everyone was wrapped up in his act. Enchanted. Entertained. 

“Hello, Willard.” 

Hunter’s voice from the next room jolted him back to reality--or was it just another fantasy? Medication warded off hallucinations, but his active imagination allowed Arthur to escape, even though his body was stuck in Arkham.

“It’s good to see you.”

No. That was definitely Hunter. Arthur’s heart beat faster and he rolled out of bed and onto the floor to stare through the rat hole.

Hunter placed Willard’s food on the chair near the bed where Willard sat, bundled in his blanket. Today was even colder than usual. On the hard floor, Arthur shivered as the hospital’s chill seeped into his bones, but he didn’t care. The view was too interesting, and for as long he remembered, physical discomfort and pain had been part of his life.

“You’re. . .you’re back,” Willard said softly, staring at Hunter with a pleased, almost trusting look on his face. A twinge of envy darted through Arthur. Willard might be coming around to Arthur’s gestures of friendship, but he still didn’t fully trust him, not even after Arthur had protected Aristotle _twice._ He’d appreciated it, though. Arthur could still feel Willard’s caresses--the warmth of his touch and the look in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Yes. I’m going to be working on this unit permanently, from what I’ve been told.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“How have you been, Willard?”

“All right, I guess.”

Hunter smiled at him and another twinge of emotion cut through Arthur. He remembered when she’d looked at him like that. It had been nice when she’d touched him, too. She hadn’t been shy about it. That time he’d awakened from a nightmare, she’d hugged him, and it had felt _good_. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Arthur rolled onto his back. He listened to his heartbeat, felt the cold hardness of the floor beneath him. She made him feel all these things that had disappeared when Arthur slowly died while giving birth to Joker. 

_Arthur is dead_ , he’d told her, and he’d wanted to believe it, but it wasn’t true. He was still here. He still wanted someone to see him, touch him, and love him. He still craved the acceptance that was just beyond his reach and always would be, especially now. Even here, Joker had the spotlight. Joker didn’t give a fuck what people thought of him because he knew most people admired and even envied him. Before being locked up, he’d seen evidence all over the city that Joker was a hero to all the ignored, bullied people who were stepped on and over by those more fortunate. 

What no one realized, what Arthur himself hadn’t even fully accepted, was that he and Joker weren’t so different underneath it all. Joker thought about Hunter and Willard. He imagined endless nights of laughter and sex, snug between them. Hunter’s long, lithe body and Willard’s sleek, broad-shouldered one entangled with Arthur’s own wiry limbs. He could feel Willard’s strong hands on him, and Hunter’s soft lips against his. He touched them back--tasting them, pleasuring them, dominating them. They were the family he never had, and he would protect them until his dying breath.

“Arthur,” Hunter called, tapping on his door.

His eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly, ignoring the aches in his limbs caused by the cold floor.

She entered the room and offered a faint, uncertain smile. Her warm brown gaze held his. “Why are you on the floor?”

“So you’re back.” He rose and stared at her, unable to keep from smiling.

“Yeah. I’ll be here for good now.”

“You mean for as long as you work here.”

“You still think I won’t last.”

He shrugged and perched on the bed, crossing his legs and staring at her. “You called me Arthur again.”

“Do you mind?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see."

"What happened to your face?" She gestured toward the bandage covering the scratches on his cheek.

"Nothing. Just some scratches." Telling her about his little spat with Willard would be embarrassing.

Her brow furrowed. "How did that happen?" Of course she wouldn't just let it go.

He shrugged and glanced at his food tray. "What have you brought me tonight? Anything tasty?” He slowly flicked his tongue over his lips.

She wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t look bad. Chicken. Vegetables. You should try some.”

“Why did they move you?” He continued staring at her, smiling wider and uncrossing his legs so that he could bounce them. Something about her filled him with energy. He wanted to make her laugh. Grab her hand and dance down the corridors. He wanted to kiss her. Sometimes the way she looked at him almost convinced him that she wanted the same thing, but it was probably another illusion, like the dreams he’d had about Sophie.

No. This was different. Hunter _really_ talked to him. She _actually_ touched him. 

“I guess they thought I upset you.”

Arthur’s grin turned to a sneer. “Who’s they?” It had to be fucking Sausage Breath. One of these days, when the fucker wasn’t paying attention, Arthur was going to make him sorry for every fucking thing he’d said and done to just about every patient in this shit-hole.

“I don’t know. They didn’t tell me.”

Arthur nodded, his legs bouncing faster. He entwined his fingers and stretched his arms overhead, staring at her.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked, still lurking close to the door.

“Do you _want_ to leave? Or, should I say, don’t you _have_ to leave?”

“I have a few more meals to deliver, but I can come back, if you want.”

He abruptly went still. His smile faded and he furrowed his brow. “Why would you do that? Do you want to get fired?”

“I won’t be fired. Dr. Seil said we can talk, if it’s all right with you.”

A nauseating realization struck Arthur. “You’re not really a housekeeper, are you? You’re some kind of therapist or counselor. Do I look fucking stupid to you?”

“Arthur, I swear, I’m not a counselor, but I’m not going to lie to you. Dr. Seil said if you and Willard want to be friends with me, he’s fine with it, as long as I don’t break rules, and only if it’s okay with you.”

“Why would you want to be friends with us? It doesn’t make sense.”

Hunter gave a wry laugh. “Lots of stuff doesn’t make sense. Here’s your dinner. I’ll be back for it in a little while.”

She put it down and turned to leave the room.

“Hey,” Arthur called.

Hunter turned to him. 

“I don’t get what’s happening.”

Her rich brown eyes blinked slowly a few times before she shook her head. “I’m not sure I do, either. All I know is, Dr. Seil said if we want to talk, we can.”

“Are you going to tell him what we talk about?”

“I guess that depends, Arthur. Like I said, I’m not going to lie to you.” He waited for her to add something like 'I’m really here to help you get better,' but she didn’t. He was glad. That would have turned him off entirely.

“See you soon.” She left the room and Arthur stared at the closed door for a moment.

This was weird. Arkham was usually a predictable place. Everything was done on schedule and according to the book, pretty much. Even bad treatment from guys like Sausage Breath was expected and routine. 

Nothing like this had ever happened to Arthur before, not since this visit and not during the other time he’d been committed, before he’d gone on his killing spree.

“Hey, Arthur.”

_Willard._

He stretched out on the floor and met that familiar blue gaze through the rat hole.

“She’s back.” Willard grinned.

“Yeah. So?”

“I’m glad. Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know yet.” Yes, Arthur was glad, but he didn’t trust the situation.

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What?”

Willard’s smile broadened. “Last night, I met some of Aristotle’s family.”


	18. Only Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threats fly between Hunter and Sausage. Willard makes an enlightening observation.

The soft thud of rubber-soled shoes preceded the stench of that infamous breath. Hunter curled her lip in disgust. Sausage was in close proximity.

Hunter had just finished delivering the patients' dinners and was washing the floor in Yeti's room. He would be back in the morning, and knowing that concerned her. Would he try to hurt Arthur again? Obviously Arthur could take care of himself, but that didn't mean he wasn't in danger. From what she heard, Yeti caused problems for patients and staff in general, but Arthur had been the first to cause _him_ serious harm.

"You think you're pretty special now, don't ya?" Sausage Breath said, his voice almost a purr. He lingered in the open doorway, so close to Hunter that she felt his horrid breath on her neck.

She stepped away and turned to face him. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play the innocent. You're far from that, girlie."

"I have a name." Hunter pointed to the tag on her uniform. "And it's not girlie."

"Whatever. Doc Seil says he's using you to help treat Fleck and Stiles. That doesn't sound right to me. What's going on with you and the doc?"

"As you so succinctly put it when I questioned your methods, mind your own beeswax."

Sausage narrowed his dark, beady eyes. "You know what? No one around here is above the rules, floor scrubbers or doctors. You're headed for trouble if you mess with patients like Fleck. A guy like him is crazy enough. If trained professionals can't help him, then a nobody housekeeper like you won't. Something about this doesn't smell right."

"I think it's your own breath you're smelling."

Gritting his teeth, he took a step closer and pointed in her face. "I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Go for it." Hunter stood her ground, her gaze fixed on his. Old, familiar sensations stirred inside her--dangerous sensations. She didn't like being threatened. "I know what your problem is, Sam. I might be a housekeeper, but right now I'm working with Dr. Seil to help Arthur and Willard. That means I'm keeping a close eye on them and reporting to him. Everyone here knows that you mistreat patients, and between you and me, most of the staff isn't wild about you, either, so _I'm_ keeping an eye on _you_. If you do anything to hurt Arthur, Willard, or any other patient here, I'll know about it and you _will_ answer for it."

He visibly gritted his teeth and his nostrils flared. "You have no business--"

"Yes, I do. Now back off so I can finish getting this room ready."

"Yeah. Right." Sausage's ferocity faded and he smiled. "Yeti is back tomorrow. That might be fun, and we all know how much Joker loves a good laugh."

Hunter's stomach clenched and her grip tightened on the mop. She could easily ram the handle into Sausage's gut, but there's no way she could explain attacking him. After all, they were on camera. If he made the first move against her, however, she could certainly defend herself.

"I don't like the look on your face." Sausage narrowed his eyes.

"Good instincts, Sam."

"You're awfully high and mighty for a brand new housekeeper. Remember, girlie, this is Arkham. It's a dangerous place, especially for a woman."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't do that." He feigned innocence. "Just consider it a friendly warning from a guy who's been around for a while." He turned and left the room.

That had definitely been a threat, and Hunter was the wrong person to mess with. She hadn't been goading Sausage when she said she'd keep an eye on him. She meant it, and if he tried to harm anyone, especially her, Arthur, or Willard, she'd do whatever it took to protect them.

After cleaning Yeti's room and the recreation room, Hunter collected the patients' meal trays. She exchanged words with a few, dodged a half-full dish one flung at her, and cleaned up the mess while an orderly restrained the scruffy elderly man who had spent most of his life in and out of Arkham. Willard had pushed his tray through the slot, as usual. Hunter tapped on his door and announced herself before entering.

"Visiting hours are starting soon," Hunter said.

His gaze flickered toward her as if to say he didn't expect any visitors.

"I have break time and thought we might hang out, if you're up to it?"

His pretty blue eyes narrowed a bit and she almost sensed his mistrust.

"We don't have to. I just thought--"

"I'd like that." His voice was soft, scarcely a whisper.

"Okay. Then I'll see you in the rec room?"

He nodded, smiling slightly.

Hunter left his room and approached Arthur's. He hadn't sent his tray through the slot, but she took that as a good sign. Apparently he wanted to see her again. She glanced through the window in his door.

His tray rested on a chair near the bed where he sprawled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his long legs crossed at the ankles. A reed-like arm floated above his head, his graceful fingers caressing the air. Where was he? What music flowed through his unpredictable mind? Crazy or not, Arthur fascinated her like no one she'd ever met before.

She knocked on his door and stepped inside. "Hey, Arthur."

His hand froze in mid-air. A grin tugged at his lips and he shifted his gaze toward her. "Hey."

"During my break, I'm meeting Willard in the rec room for visiting hours. Do you--"

"Yeah. I'll be there."

Smiling, she picked up his tray. "Good."

"Uh huh." He stood fluidly and danced around the room. Hunter backed away, tray in hand, and he met her gaze. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Do you like to dance?"

"I. . ." She gave a little laugh. "I never really thought about it."

"Think?" His brow furrowed briefly and he paused, striking an almost ballet-like pose. "You don't have to think about it."

"Maybe you don't, but I'm not graceful."

"Come on, Hunter. Back in school you must have had lots of boys--"

"No, I didn't," she said flatly.

Those intense green eyes widened a bit. "Why?"

"I'm not the kind of woman guys like, I guess."

He tilted his head slightly to the side, his expression perplexed.

"I have to get rid of these trays. See you in the rec room in a little bit."

"Yeah. Maybe I can teach you how one of these days."

"Teach me how to what?"

"Dance."

"I don't think they'd allow it."

A huge grin stretched across his face. "Well fuck them."

Okay, that was more Joker than Arthur. By now Hunter knew him well enough to figure it out.

She left quickly and brought the trays to be cleaned. By the time she arrived at the rec room, patients and visitors already mingled there.

Arthur and Willard sat alone at a table. Arthur leaned toward Willard, talking softly. Willard's gaze shifted to Hunter.

"Hi, guys," she said, pulling out a chair. "Mind if I sit?"

"What if we say yeah?" Arthur smirked, gazing at her through his long lashes. She didn't sense any genuine annoyance from him. His tone and expression were playful. She liked that.

"Leave her alone," Willard said in his soft voice. His blue gaze darted around the room before dropping to his hands that rested lightly on the table.

"Why? She can take a joke."

"Speaking of that, you're not the only Joker around here," Willard continued.

Arthur's grin faded. "What do you mean?"

"I met with that new psychiatrist today. You know. The one who's in charge of everything and who's allowing us to meet like this."

"Dr. Seil." Arthur's expression turned cold. "I don't like him."

"I don't trust anyone whose name is only lies," Willard said.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked before Hunter could.

"Only lies. It's an anagram."

Arthur stared at him blankly. "What the fuck is that?"

Willard lifted his gaze to Arthur's, a faint almost sinister smile on his lips. "If you stop swearing for at least an hour, I'll tell you what it means."

Joker's enormous smile threatened to split his face.

Hunter's stomach clenched. If she didn't do something fast, this could escalate. "Willard, I'd really like to know what you mean, too."

"Lony Seil. The letters rearranged spell 'only lies.' Hasn't anyone else noticed?"

Hunter and Arthur exchanged glances. No. She hadn't noticed.


	19. Struggles for Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard entertains nighttime visitors, Yeti returns, and Dr. Seil tries to get Willard to talk.

Willard generally didn't have trouble falling asleep. That probably explained why he was among the few patients who didn't get a sleeping pill. That was fine with him. He believed the less mind altering substances one used, the better. Willard had always tried to keep a clean lifestyle. He believed in eating healthy food in measured portions and tried to exercise daily. Sticking to his regimen hadn't been easy while taking care of his mother, but he'd done his best. This past year, depression had overtaken his life and his health had suffered for it. Now he was stuck in a mental hospital where, ironically, no one except for Hunter seemed to care about his overall health. Maybe he didn't get sleeping pills, but other medications were forced on him daily. When he asked what type of pills they were and their purpose, he didn't receive acceptable answers.

Tonight he almost wished for a sleeping pill. He had a lot on his mind. He didn't trust Dr. Seil. Arthur and Hunter had been surprised to learn that the good doctor's name also spelled 'only lies.' Hunter said it was a coincidence. That was possible, but Willard didn't like the feelings Dr. Seil stirred in him. He didn't like the look behind the man's cold green eyes. The one thing that Willard, Arthur, and Hunter agreed on was that Dr. Seil resembled Arthur. At first glance, it wasn't noticeable. Well spoken and dressed in a classic style, Seil was stockier than Arthur, and his heavy beard hid most of his face. Still, if one looked closely, there was no mistaking their similar features. They even had an almost identical facial scar. Their eyes were the same in shape and color, but Seil's eyes were cold. Emotionless. Arthur's eyes showed his every emotion. A person could get lost in Arthur's eyes.

Willard took a few steadying breaths. He didn't fully understand his feelings for Arthur. He probably shouldn't feel this way about another man, but he couldn't help it. Maybe he shouldn't try. He'd spent most of his life alone, cowering behind emotional walls because it was the only way he could survive.

Arthur didn't care what anyone thought. When he was happy, he laughed. When he was angry, he lashed out. Arthur was elemental, and Willard envied him in a way, but Arthur was so raw. So unpolished. A diamond in the rough.

Willard imagined Arthur cleaned up, his unkempt hair brushed and his lanky body wrapped in a well-fitting suit. Black would be nice, but with something red--maybe a red tie, vest, or shirt. Willard remembered how he'd looked in his red suit, right before he'd killed Murray Franklin. Even with the clown paint and clashing shirt and vest, he'd been striking.

Arthur had a nice voice, too. Rough at times and incredibly sweet at others. He cursed too much, though. Maybe it wasn't his fault. He wasn't educated, and perhaps he'd had bad upbringing. After all, he'd murdered his own mother--possibly with good reason? Sometimes Willard had thought about snuffing out his mother's life, but only because he'd been exhausted and nearly overwhelmed by caring for her day and night for so long. She had said cruel things without meaning to, but Willard had loved her and never would have harmed her. Maybe Arthur had been overwhelmed, too. They had never discussed it. There's a lot he and Arthur could talk about. Now that Willard was starting to trust him a bit, they could--

Maybe they wouldn't even have a chance to learn more about each other. Yeti would return to their unit tomorrow. Though Willard had never seen Yeti, he'd heard stories about him. He knew that Arthur had seriously hurt him, but that might have been due to luck on Arthur's part. What if Yeti started trouble again? What if he hurt or even killed Arthur this time?

Willard tossed and turned for a few minutes. Where was Aristotle? He could use a friend right now. Usually he'd climbed into bed with Willard by now. A few nights ago, he had brought some cousins. Willard told them they needed to be careful, though. One rat might go unnoticed, but others would be caught on video. What if someone saw Aristotle? Then Willard would lose two friends--one to the exterminator and one to Yeti.

"What a horrifying thought," Willard said and left his bed to lie on the floor near the rat hole. Maybe Arthur's sleeping pill hadn't kicked in.

He strained to see in the darkness. Arthur wasn't in sight, so that meant he was in bed.

"Arthur," Willard said.

No answer.

Why would there be? Lights out had been hours ago.

A little white nose poked out of the hole. Willard jerked slightly, and then he smiled.

"Aristotle, you startled me." He offered his hand, and the rat climbed into it. Willard carried him to bed, angling himself so that he kept his friend hidden from the camera. "I saved you a piece of cheese from dinner."

He reached under his pillow and pulled out the offering.

Two more rats scurried out of the hole. They were dark brown--not as pretty as Aristotle, but cute nonetheless.

"Hello. You all shouldn't be here, you know. It's dangerous. Here." Willard broke off two small portions of the cheese and placed them in the rat hole. The two brown ones scurried in and ate it. They cast eager looks at Willard.

"I don't have any more. Now go away before you're discovered."

The rats disappeared.

If only there were a way for him to meet with his friends without fear. Oh, the things he could teach them!

He returned to bed and settled down with Aristotle who had just finished nibbling the last of the cheese. His little friend calmed him enough that he finally drifted to sleep.

When Willard woke, Aristotle was gone and it was just about time to get up.

At breakfast, Arthur joined Willard, as was his habit. Willard now looked forward to his company. While Willard ate his lukewarm oatmeal, he listened to Arthur chat away.

"I've been thinking about what you said about Dr. Lies. You know I never really liked him. He's weird."

"Like I said yesterday. I don't trust him," Willard said softly. The orderlies were walking around, and he knew they tried to listen to everything anyone said. They were like predators, watching their prey and waiting for a moment of weakness. In Arkham there were lots of those, but Willard wasn't stupid and he had endless patience.

"At first I thought it was just my imagination, that he looks like me, but you and Hunter see it, too."

Willard nodded. "I tried talking to you last night, but you were sound asleep."

"Fucking sleeping pills." Arthur paused and held Willard's gaze. "You don't like swearing. It makes you uncomfortable."

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable, but there's a better way to make your point, don't you think?"

"How? I don't have a gun or a sharp object." Arthur's green eyes opened wide, and Willard couldn't tell if he was serious or trying to make a joke. With Arthur, it could go either way. Willard kept silent, and Arthur grinned slightly. "At least now I know what an anagram is. You know I can't wait to get to the rec room later today. I have a ton of stuff to write about. Sort things out in my head." He tapped his temple, and then his smile broadened. "Even though I have you and Hunter to talk to now. That's better than the therapists and Dr. Lies."

"Be careful or you might slip and call him that."

Arthur shrugged and batted his lashes. "So what if I do?"

"If he's up to something, then we don't want him to know we're on to him. I'd be careful what you write in that journal. Seil and any other therapist can read it."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "Maybe you're right. I'm not used to overthinking what I write in there. It's just a way to work things out."

Willard empathized. He'd kept a diary once. They had given him a journal here, but he refused to use it. He'd never give them such an advantage over him. He hadn't considered that journaling truly helped Arthur. By the disappointment in his beautiful green eyes, it meant a great deal to him. Still, as much as he didn't want to prevent Arthur from getting the help or comfort he needed, he feared the motives of Dr. Lies.

"What do you think he wants?" Arthur asked, his eyes wide.

"I'm not sure."

"Do you--"

"Get out of my way! I own this place!" A booming voice shouted from the cafeteria entrance. Willard turned to stare at a towering pug-nosed man whose muscular frame was just about bursting through his plain blue Arkham clothes. Tufts of unkempt white hair sprouted from his melon-like head, except for a shaved patch over which clung a large, square bandage. Fading bruises covered his forehead and half his face. Stitches from a healing wound ran down his cheek. Somehow his battered appearance combined with his angry expression made him look even more frightening.

"Oh fuck," Arthur murmured, though his rigid grin never faded. "Yeti."

"Clear the way, ya bunch of cunts." He shoved two other male patients aside. Most others cleared out of his path. Some even cringed, as if they could make themselves invisible.

Willard's heart raced. His mouth went dry, and he swallowed, glancing around for anything he could use as a weapon.

Yeti paused at their table.

"What are you looking it?" Yeti growled at Willard who kept silent, though he didn't avert his gaze.

Willard was done cowering. He'd stopped that when he'd finally confronted Mr. Martin. Yeti would probably slaughter him in a fight, but Willard would never again let any man intimidate or control him. He'd kill or die first.

"Hey," Arthur said.

Yeti's gaze darted toward Arthur who stared at him with an eerie grin. Joker's grin. An odd look flashed across Yeti's face. Fear, no doubt, since Joker was responsible for the physical damage Yeti had deservedly endured. He turned away and plowed toward the food line.

"You don't scare easy, do you?" Arthur gazed at Willard through his long, dark lashes. He was lovely, in an unusual way. Willard appreciated unusual things.

Before getting to know Arthur better, Willard wouldn't have believed this rather short, wraithlike man capable of causing so much damage to a beast like Yeti. Arthur was full of surprises, and that intrigued Willard.

"And apparently nothing scares you."

Arthur broke up a piece of toast. "A lot of things used to scare me, but not anymore."

"Are you going to eat that?"

Arthur dropped the toast and curled his lip.

"You should eat," Willard suggested.

Their gazes locked. Arthur hesitated a moment before taking a bite of toast. "I wish Hunter worked days sometimes."

"Do you miss her?"

Shrugging, Arthur tried to look nonchalant. "Maybe."

Willard missed her. He enjoyed having her around, but that worried him. He was beginning to trust too many people. Hunter. Arthur. It would no doubt end badly.

After breakfast, Willard and the others went to group therapy. They were called out individually to meet with their psychiatrists. When it was Willard's turn, he sat in silence across from Dr. Seil.

"Willard, I know you talk to some people around here." Dr. Seil's cold eyes belied his soothing tone. "I also know you've been taming a white rat here at Arkham."

Willard's pulse raced. His hands tightened on his knees and he willed himself to stop gritting his teeth.

"I'm willing to overlook the rat. I'm not your enemy, Willard. In order for me to do my best for you, I have to know what you need from me."

They might consider Willard crazy, maybe his actions even warranted the label, but he wasn't stupid. Only an idiot wouldn't see through Dr. Seil's facade. It didn't make sense that he would allow Willard to keep Aristotle, not when rats were the reason he'd been sent to Arkham in the first place. What Seil meant was that he'd overlook Aristotle in exchange for cooperation from Willard. Here was someone else trying to manipulate Willard--to control him. It enraged him, but he remained calm.

"I'd like to know about the rats," Seil continued. "You don't have to say much until you get to know me better. All I ask today is for you to tell me one thing. Just one. How about it, Willard?"

Willard gritted his teeth again, but he smiled ever so slightly. Should he keep his silence, or should he tell _only lies_?


	20. Sessions and Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lony has sessions with Willard and Arthur, but are they on to him?

Lony waited patiently for a verbal reply from Willard. Despite Willard's almost catatonic appearance, one or two tiny physical responses signified that he not only heard and comprehended Lony's words, but was incensed by them.

His breathing quickened and his fingers bit into his thighs. Willard lifted his gaze and the intensity of his glare thrilled Lony. He wanted to laugh, but that would only shut Willard down. Despite his insanity, Stiles was remarkably intelligent, and unlike Arthur, he read people quite well. Possibly too well.

_He's going to be a hard nut to crack_. Lony nearly burst into giggles at his choice of words, but refrained.

"Why?" Willard finally asked in a soft, somewhat sinister voice. Oh yes. Lony could almost respect a man like Stiles, except that he was far too restrained.

"Would you be a bit more specific?"

"Why are you willing to overlook the rat?"

Willard wasn't even going to waste time pretending that no such rat existed.

"Because it's more important to me that we establish communication than it is for me to separate you from a creature you've already bonded to."

"I'm here because of my obsession, as they call it, with rats. You're my doctor, but it's fine with you if I befriend a wild rat here at Arkham?"

"Yes. Does that satisfy you enough for us to move on?"

Willard held his gaze in silence for several heartbeats. "For now."

"Tell me about Mr. Martin, Willard."

"There's not much to tell. He was a monster. Now he's dead."

"A monster. In what way?"

"He enjoyed torturing people. And animals. I watched him bludgeon a rat to death."

"Was the rat a friend of yours?"

"No. It was just another unfortunate victim of Mr. Martin." Willard's gaze never faltered.

"You say Mr. Martin tortured animals, but when the police arrested you, you had been fighting with the rats you'd befriended. You stabbed a specific rat repeatedly. What was his name?"

"Ben." Willard's eyes were completely on fire, but his voice remained soft and calm. He would snap at some point. Lony would love to see it--drive him to it. Toy with him. But that would be a brief moment of fun. He had to think long-term. Better to work on Stiles the same way he was working on Fleck.

"What's the difference between Mr. Martin killing a rat and you doing the same?"

"I killed in self-defense. Ben hated me."

"What about the others?"

A vein throbbed in Willard's temple. "What others?"

"There was rat poison in your house."

"It was infested. What did you expect?"  
  


"So, if driven to it, you'll kill."

"Won't just about anyone?

Lony allowed himself to smile this time. "Some even kill when unprovoked."

"I would never do that."

"What other good reasons are there for killing?"

"How should I know?"

"I'm only asking for your opinion, Willard."

"I don't have one."

"Everyone has an opinion."

"I don't have one I'd like to share."

Lony hummed a bit and leaned back in his chair, studying Willard with a faint smile. "You don't like me, do you?"

"I don't like to bargain."

"Why not? If both parties get what they want, bargaining can be a beautiful thing."

"I didn't think a psychiatrist would bargain with patients."

No. Stiles wasn't stupid, and he wasn't the shy little twerp everyone seemed to think he was--at least that's how he'd been described by those who knew him before he was committed.

"Come, now, Willard. Bargaining happens all the time here. Good behavior is rewarded. That's bargaining, in a way. What's the difference if I offer cigarettes to one patient or a recreational rat to you?"

Willard didn't reply, and Lony wasn't certain if he had finally reached him on some level, or if his silence meant that they both knew exactly the difference between a rat and a cigarette.

"I think we've talked enough for today. Think about what I've told you, Willard, and remember, I'm here for you."

A moment later, an orderly stepped in to escort Willard back to group therapy.

Lony made a few notes in Willard's file.

He rose from his chair and walked around the room, pausing to gaze out the window to the dank city of Gotham. It was such a cold, cruel place. Only the ruthless would survive. The ruthless and those with a sense of humor, and speaking of humor, his next session was with Arthur.

By the time the orderly arrived with Fleck, Lony was seated again.

Fleck settled onto the cushioned chair across from him and brushed a straggly lock of wavy brown hair behind his ear. He studied Lony with a vibrancy and coolness in his green eyes that told him Fleck was in a Joker state of mind. That could make him harder or easier to manipulate. Joker and Willard certainly kept Lony on his toes. Things would be easier once he was certain the crazy couple had cemented their relationship. Hunter would play an important part in it all. Lony was certain of that. Despite her own questionable character, she had a calming influence on both of them.

"Hello, Arthur. How are things going for you?"

Fleck laughed and slowly trailed his thumb up and down the length of his nose.

Lony smiled. "Is my question funny or are you thinking about something else?"

"Maybe both."

"You've been talking to Hunter."

His smile faded to what Lony had come to know as feigned seriousness. "Yeah. It's what you wanted, right?"

"More important, it's what _you_ want."

"Mmm hmm."

"Yeti returned to your unit this morning. Any issues?"

"Not yet. Can I have a cigar--"

"I'd like you to consider quitting them, Arthur."

He laughed, shrill and long. Finally he paused, his glittering gaze fixed on Lony. "Uh, no."

"I have a good reason for asking you."

"No kidding. Health? Heard that before."

"Your health is going to play in important part in getting you out of here."

"I thought we agreed I'm never getting out. It's either here or prison."

"No, that's what _you_ said, and _I_ said that anything is possible. There is a way out for you, Arthur, but it's going to take a lot of work on your part."

"Yeah. Okay." Joker leaned back in his chair, his gaze cast toward the ceiling, his anxiously bouncing legs spread wide.

"I'm telling you the truth."

An even broader smile stretched across his haggard face.

"Apparently you're not in the mood to talk about it, so we'll stop for today, but I'm not giving up on you, Arthur. One day, you _will_ leave Arkham, and it won't be for prison. It's the truth."

"The truth?" Joker straightened in his chair, crossed his legs and stared at Lony through his long lashes. "Or is it _only lies_?"

Lony's heart palpitated. There's no way Fleck could know the significance of those words. He was quite certain that Fleck didn't even know what an anagram was, let alone have the brain capacity to figure out that Lony's name was one. The reason behind it had more to do with Lony's observation of life in general. Yes, he had told lies. Who hadn't? But what he said to Arthur about leaving Arkham and avoiding prison, it was all true. It was his plan. If it went well, he would give both Joker and Arthur the lives they desired.

"That's all for now, Arthur. Think about what you really want. If you're willing to work hard for it, then I'm here to support you on your journey."

"There's only one thing I need for any journey I want to take, and it's right here." Arthur grinned and tapped a finger to his temple.

The orderly arrived for Arthur. At the door, Arthur paused and glanced over his shoulder at Lony, curiosity in his eyes.

"Come on," the orderly said, closing the door after he and Arthur left.

Lony drew a long breath and released it slowly. He sat for a moment, deep in thought.

No. Fleck wouldn't have figured out anything, and he doubted Hunter would, either. Stiles, on the other hand--

Lony would have to be more diligent than ever around Stiles.


	21. Socks and Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During visiting hours, the trio discuss Dr. Lies. Arthur ponders his feelings for his new family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have been moving slow so far, but they're going to pick up soon. I hope you're still enjoying the story. It's been a difficult few days due to illness in the family (not Covid related), but fandom stuff has been helping me get through. Hope you're doing well!

"You actually asked Dr. Seil if he was telling 'only lies?' You did that?" Willard stared at Arthur, a disbelieving look in his beautiful eyes.

Arthur gazed back with a half-smile. He could look into those eyes all day. "Mmm hmm. I did."

Willard shook his head.

"What did he say to that?" Hunter asked. She sat with Willard and Arthur at a table in the rec room. Normally she would be on duty during visiting hours, but Dr. Seil had arranged for her to join Arthur and Willard every evening, if they wanted to.

This made Arthur--dare he say happy?

The only person Arthur wanted to stare at as much as Willard was Hunter. He shifted his gaze from vibrant blue eyes to deep, rich brown ones. Still smiling, he said, "He didn't really say anything, except that if I answer his questions and do what he says, I'll be free someday. I might be crazy, but I'm not dumb enough to believe that."

"But you were silly enough to goad a man who might be even crazier than we are," Willard said softly. "You seriously used the exact words 'only lies?'"

"Fuck yeah." Joker's smile threatened to split his face, but it felt good. Powerful. Willard was trying to say Arthur was stupid. He wanted to get him worked up, but by now Arthur knew how to push Willard's buttons, too. Swearing always seemed to do that.

Willard shook his head slightly. "How can a man who moves so gracefully speak so crudely."

A little jolt of pleasure shot through Arthur. It made some of his anger disappear. His huge grin relaxed to a dreamy smile. "You think I'm graceful?"

"Yes." Willard lowered his gaze slowly, down to his hands that were clasped tightly on the table.

Arthur was about to ask Willard what else he thought about him, but caught sight of Sausage approaching them. Beneath his dark moustache, his lip curled into a sneer. His cruel gaze traveled over the trio and he paused between Arthur and Willard. "Are we having fun over here? What are you three whispering about?"

"The cafeteria food. What else?" Hunter stared at Sausage with a cold expression that only the orderly seemed to bring out. Their mutual hatred of Sausage was something else all three had in common.

"As long as you're behaving. Dr. Seil said we have to put up with your weird little friendship, but Nurse Julie said that does't excuse you from following the rules or us from enforcing them."

"Nurse Julie huh?" Hunter glared at him, a fake little grin on her full lips. "Thanks for the info, Sam."

Sausage scowled, realizing that she'd probably report back to Dr. Seil, and if she did, Nurse Julie wouldn't be happy. He walked away, but Willard's intense gaze followed him. Arthur wondered what Willard was planning, if maybe he was thinking about eventually teaching his rat friends to play tricks on Sausage. It would be pretty funny to maybe have them chew through the orderly's personal belongings in his locker. It would be even funnier if Aristotle and the others took a few bites out of Sausage, but he probably tasted as awful as he smelled. He might make the poor rats sick.

"Hey, I've been wondering if there's anything I can get you guys from outside?" Hunter asked.

Arthur shrugged. "Like what? They don't allow us to have much."

"Socks." Willard shifted his gaze toward Hunter. "If it's not too much trouble."

She smiled genuinely this time, and it was so pretty. "It's no trouble. It's pretty cold in here most of the time. How about you, Arthur? Want some socks?"

"I wish I could have some face paint. Even some red lipstick. You guys have never seen me like a clown."

Willard's brow furrowed. "The whole country saw you like a clown."

"But that was on TV." Arthur cast him a sidelong look and shrugged, batting his lashes. "It's different in person. Besides, I like how it feels."

"The clown paint?" Hunter asked.

"Mmm hmm. It wasn't just paint that night, though. It was my mother's lipstick." Arthur's smile faded and he stared across the room without really seeing it. At that moment, he was backstage at Live With Murray Franklin. Strange sensations broke over him, like he was outside himself. Watching. Someone had come backstage to help him clean up his face paint. It was runny and smeared because he'd fled from the cops, but it had been worth it. Nothing and no one would stop him from stealing the spotlight tonight. He was alone now, in the dressing room, and he pulled the tube of Penny's lipstick from his pocket and smoothed it over his painted lips. Red-on-red. It was fitting that he wore something of Penny's. After all, she had set him on the path that led him here.

"Arthur." Hunter touched his hand and he jumped, snapping back to reality.

"Are you all right?" Willard asked.

They both stared at him with concern. Knowing that they gave a shit about him brought a lump to his throat. Tears sprang into his eyes and he laughed.

"Arthur, its okay. Look at me," Hunter ordered, her voice somehow authoritative but gentle. "You're supposed to breathe or count, right? Dr. Seil said that helps."

"Fu. . .fuck him." Arthur laughed and coughed, pressing a hand to his chest. Sometimes it really fucking hurt when he tried to control it. So why try? Joker didn't restrain himself.

"Sausage Breath is looking this way," Willard said quickly.

"Come on, Arthur." Holding his gaze, Hunter lightly rubbed the back of his hand. "Count with me."

He fucking hated this. It was easier and more natural to just go with his laughter, but Willard was right. Sausage stared in their direction. He'd take any excuse to break them up. One of these days, Sausage was going to be sorry for every time he fucked with Arthur.

But not today. He followed Hunter's lead, took her help, and allowed her to put Joker on a fucking leash. If he was going to be tamed, even for a while, then she was the only keeper he'd accept.

"I wish I knew what Dr. Lies wants," Willard said once Arthur had quieted and Sausage turned his attention to other patients. "Because he clearly wants something, and it's not just to cure us."

Now that was genuinely funny. Arthur gave a snort of real laughter. "Cured? I'll never be cured. I don't even want to be cured anymore."

Hunter looked confused, and he almost felt sorry for her. She just didn't get it, but at least she was trying.

"I won't argue with that," Willard said with that touch of arrogance that no one except Arthur appeared to notice. "But that's not the point. What does he want out of this?"

"You guys are pretty famous, at least in Gotham. If he's successful with you, it will be a big deal for him professionally," Hunter said.

"True, but I don't think that's it." Willard looked thoughtful. "He's taking a lot of risks."

"What do _you_ think he wants?" Hunter asked.

Willard focused on her. "Tell me again what he said he wants you to do with us."

"He said you guys respond well to me. That you're willing to communicate with me, and that Arthur hasn't tried to kill me and that's a good sign."

Arthur bristled. He rolled his eyes in disgust. "They still think I just attack people for the hell of it. I'm a peaceful person. Really. I'm just tired of being fucked over, so if someone tries to fuck me over, I've learned to--"

"Shoot first and ask questions later," Willard interrupted.

Arthur glared. "Says the man with the killer rats."

"Where's the proof that _my_ rats harmed anyone?"

Arthur and Willard locked gazes. Willard gritted his teeth visibly, his blue eyes blazing. Damn, Arthur wanted to dive on him. Kiss him hard. Grope him. Willard had no idea how fucking sexy he was when he was angry.

"Guys. We should probably keep it down." Hunter glanced around, and then she turned back to Arthur and Willard. "I have to go. Visiting hours are just about over and I need to get back to work."

"Are you going to look in on us later, when you wash floors outside our rooms?" Willard asked.

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. "You look in on us?"

"Yeah." She furrowed her brow. "Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah." Emotions threatened to overcome Arthur again. In his whole life, no one had ever looked in on him. Even when he was a kid, he couldn't remember Penny ever--Why the fuck would she bother, unless she wanted to make sure he hadn't escaped from the rope tying him to the radiator?

"Good, because I'm not trying to invade your privacy or anything like that. I just want to make sure you guys are okay."

"If I'm awake, I'll wave to you," Willard said.

Annoyance twisted inside Arthur. "I won't be awake. Fucking sleeping pills. You'll look in, though?"

The warmth in her eyes cut through the Arkham chill. She squeezed his hand and smiled slightly. "I promise I will. If I'm working, I'll always look in, okay?"

He nodded. Laughter bubbled up in his throat again. She tightened her hold on his hand even more, and he squeezed back. Beneath the table, Willard rested his hand on Arthur's knee. It warmed him. _They_ warmed him. Arthur never had a real family before--people who truly cared about him. Now that he considered Hunter and Willard his family, he didn't want anything to break them up. Not ever.


	22. Shopping and Her Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter shares a midnight conversation with Willard, discovers one of Arthur's talents, and has an uncomfortable talk with her sister.

For the rest of the night, Hunter couldn't stop thinking about the expression on Arthur's face when he heard that she checked on him. Sometimes it was hard to believe such a sensitive, almost childlike man was a murderer, but she should know better than anyone that even normally peaceful, rational people were capable of brutality if they were pushed hard enough.

That night, while mopping the corridors, she stopped by Arthur's room first. She didn't expect him to be awake, but she also didn't expect to see his journal propped on his chair, open to a page on which he'd drawn a giant clown smile with a message written in bold letters beneath it--

_Hi. Love, Arthur._

She smiled, knowing it was for her. Tender feelings washed over her as she gazed at him, curled up beneath his blanket, deep in a drug-induced sleep. She wanted to go in and kiss him, but she couldn't. Nurse Doreen was at the nurses' station and she was looking in Hunter's direction. She couldn't risk going in. Even if she did, Arthur wouldn't know it. With a final glance at him, she walked to Willard's door and peeked in the window.

Almost immediately, Willard lifted his head and offered a small, restrained wave. It wasn't unusual for him to be awake. Though he didn't seem to have trouble sleeping, he sometimes stayed awake to visit with Aristotle.

He surprised her, though, when he rose from bed, picked something up from his table, and approached the door.

Hunter glanced toward the nurses' station, but it was empty now. Nurse Doreen had apparently stepped away.

"Hunter," Willard whispered through the slot in his door.

She knelt to look through and found herself gazing into his vibrant blue eyes.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yes. I want to show you something." He passed a rolled-up piece of paper to her. It was a sketch of her on lined paper, probably torn from a journal. The picture was well done and flattering.

"Did you do this?" she asked, glancing from the picture to Willard and back again.

"Arthur did. He drew it for me, but I thought you should see it."

She smiled faintly. "He drew it for you? He's got some talent, doesn't he? I mean, I look better in this than in real life."

"No. That's how you look." Willard didn't smile, but there was an expression in his eyes she hadn't seen before--a thawing. A lowering of defenses. It touched her, and so did his words.

An idea struck her. "Hey, Willard, do you think Arthur would like a sketch book? When I asked if you guys wanted anything, he never answered."

"I think that's a good idea. May I have that back?"

She gave the drawing a final look and then carefully rolled it up and slid it through the slot.

"Hunter, what are you doing?" Nurse Doreen said, approaching her.

"I dropped my keys." Hunter stood.

Nurse Doreen studied her for a moment. Then she looked into Willard's room. He must have jumped back into bed, because the nurse's expression eased.

"Can I ask you something?"

The nurse looked wary. "What?"

"What kind of presents can patients have? Socks are okay, right?"

"Yes. Certain clothing, like socks, is fine. Nothing with strings."

Hunter nodded. "Right. That makes sense. How about a drawing book?"

"Like a journal or sketchbook? As long as there's no spiral binding. Anything else?"

"No. Thanks." Hunter turned away and reached for her mop.

"Hunter."

"Yes?" She glanced at the nurse who looked uncomfortable.

"I've worked here for a long time. I've never met a doctor quite like Lony Seil. I'm not sure about some of his ideas. Most of the patients in this unit can be very dangerous. Whatever is going on with you, Arthur, and Willard--"

Hunter tensed. Was Nurse Doreen going to cause trouble for them? Was she going to try to keep them apart? Maybe she had been the one to complain before and got Hunter moved to a different unit. That couldn't happen again, right? Not with Dr. Seil on her side. Dr. Lies. If Willard's suspicions were right, there was no telling whose side the psychiatrist was on.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

"Just be careful." Nurse Doreen looked sincere. "I know you want to help these patients. Not everyone here truly feels that way. For some, this is just a job. To others--I don't want to accuse anyone, but some people are angry and frustrated and they take it out on--"

"I know who you mean." Hunter held the nurse's gaze. Sausage Breath. She had to mean Sausage Breath.

"Anyway, please be careful, especially with Arthur Fleck."

"Has he ever tried to hurt you, Doreen?"

"No. But I've never let my guard down around him. He can appear passive. Timid at times, but there's another side to him."

Joker. She meant Joker. Hunter had seen him, and heaven help her, she liked what she saw. Doreen was probably right. Hunter needed to be careful, but most likely Doreen didn't know about Hunter's past. If she did, then her concern might be more for Arthur and Willard than for Hunter.

"I'll watch myself," Hunter said. "Thank you for the advice, though. I appreciate it."

"I hope you remember it." Nurse Doreen walked away and Hunter returned to work.

In the morning, Hunter left Arkham and stepped into a dank Gotham morning. She stopped at a coffee shop for a bagel and munched it on her way to a nearby five-and-dime where she bought a few pairs of blue socks for Willard. They were made of thick, warm material, and she knew he'd also appreciate the conservative color. A pair of bright red socks caught her attention. She smiled. Arthur would love those. She picked them up and then went to find a sketch pad. Luckily, there was a halfway decent one. No spiral binding. She paid for everything, and then went home. While doing a routine check of her apartment, she listened to her phone messages. There was a hang-up and one from her sister.

After taking a shower and changing into comfy clothes, she poured a glass of orange juice and sat on the couch to call her sister. Talking to TJ was always a bittersweet experience. Hunter missed her sister, but she knew she scared her, too. The incident had left TJ traumatized. Hunter had wanted so much to help her through it, but TJ had pulled away from her. Immediately after their mother's funeral, she had moved in with their cousin. TJ was doing much better now. She even had a boyfriend, which hadn't been easy for her to find after what happened. Hunter was happy for her, but she couldn't help feeling a little angry and sad as well. She'd been hurt, too. She'd hoped they could support each other, but to TJ, she was just a reminder of the violence.

"Hey, girl, how's it going?" Hunter asked when TJ picked up the phone.

"I'm good. How about you? Are you still working at that mental hospital?"

"Arkham. Yes."

"Be careful, Hunter. That place has a scary reputation."

"I'm careful."

"I don't know how you do it. Do you ever see that guy Joker? Or how about the rat man? What's his name?"

"I can't talk about the patients, TJ. Privacy and stuff like that."

"Yeah. I could never work there, especially after--Let's not talk about that."

"Okay." Hunter didn't want to keep reliving that night, either, and she wasn't the one who had brought it up. TJ had done that.

"They must be terrible, though. Crazy. Joker murdered his own mother, even. And those poor guys on the train."

"Yeah, well, you and I both know that sometimes people have good reasons for killing."

"Don't, Hunter. I know you went a little crazy, but no one blames you for that." TJ's voice softened. "He killed the woman who adopted him. That would be like you killing mom--"

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it?"

"I don't. Sorry."

"Listen, TJ, I just got in from work and I'm really tired."

"Go get some sleep, then. Talk to you soon. Take care of yourself."

"You, too. Bye." Hunter hung up the phone with a deep sigh. She was glad that was over.

After watching TV for a short time, she went to sleep. She'd wake up in late afternoon and stop by the gym for a workout before heading to Arkham.

She hoped Willard and Arthur would like their presents. Arthur might like the sketchbook, or he might fling it back through the door slot like he'd done that time to Sausage with his dinner. Smiling, Hunter closed her eyes. Either way, any type of Arthur moment would make her shift more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't have any Arthur/Willard interaction, but in the next one their relationship gets much more intimate. Thank you for reading!


	23. Breaking Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard and Arthur have an intimate talk that leads to intimate actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the others. Arthur finally gets through to Willard, but they'll still continue to challenge each other, since they both kinda like it. :-)

Willard's feet were warm--truly comfortable for the first night since he'd been arrested. It was funny because at home he often went barefoot. Was it possible that Hunter's socks didn't merely provide physical warmth? Had her consistent gestures of kindness finally thawed the icy chamber that surrounded his heart? It wasn't that Willard wanted to be cold and distant. It was a defense mechanism. His father had been a stern man with high expectations for himself and everyone else, especially Willard. He hadn't tried to disguise his disappointment in his only son. Willard had been a small, sensitive boy who enjoyed reading and spending time in the garden. He rarely caused trouble, but for the smallest incident, his father subjected him to his belt. Only in school, with his exceptional grades, did Willard seem to please his father.

"Physically, you're not much of a man, son, but intelligence--that's where the real strength is." That was probably the only thing he and his father had ever agreed on. As the saying went, knowledge was power, and Willard soaked up education. He had an insatiable thirst for it. Only when he chose his degree did his father again berate him for wasting what little talent he had.

Willard had studied to be a librarian--a job in which he'd be surrounded by knowledge. Spending his days among books was his idea of paradise.

"It's a useless pursuit," his father had said. "A man should study business, medicine, or law. Damn it, son, I have a thriving business just waiting for you to walk in and work your way up."

"Willard, your father is right," his mother had said. "I know you love books, but think about your future."

What she meant was think about _her_ future. Still, his parents had always been there for him, supporting him, sending him to the best schools. Maybe his father was right. He'd been such a disappointment, and he was rather timid. Maybe he wouldn't make it on his own, but his father owned a solid business. Only a fool wouldn't take the opportunity.

So he went to work for his father's company, but being the owner's son didn't magically provide Willard with the confidence he needed to push his way up the corporate ladder, and it certainly didn't stir his interest in the company itself. Mr. Martin, a longtime employee, had twisted his way into his father's life. He was the sort of man his father trusted and admired. The closer he and Mr. Martin got, the further he drifted from Willard.

By then Willard's mother's health had deteriorated, so Willard spent less time at the company and more at home, taking care of her. She clung to him, preferring his care to any of the outside help his father hired.

As for his father, he was disgusted by Willard, but that didn't prevent him from firing his mother's nurse and allowing Willard to take over her care full time.

Willard's father had been the sternest, strongest man he'd ever known--or so he'd thought.

After tossing and turning in bed, Willard finally sat up. Aristotle hadn't stopped by to visit yet, and no matter how much he enjoyed the rat's company, their conversation was relatively limited.

He took his pillow and blanket and arranged them on the floor by the rat hole. Then he lay down and softly called, "Arthur. Are you awake?"

"Sort of," came the muffled reply. "Why?"

"Just curious. That's all."

Arthur's bed creaked and a moment later, he stretched out on the floor. His visible green eye glistened, even in the dimness. He blinked slowly. "What is it? The sleeping pills are starting to kick in."

"It's not important."

"It must be something, if you called me."

"Have you ever--" Willard paused and shook his head. He averted his gaze. Talking about emotions made him uncomfortable. Growing up, he had been told that men didn't show weakness. Anger twisted inside him. For a man who wouldn't accept the smallest failure from his own son, Willard's father had indulged in the ultimate weakness.

"What?" Arthur pressed, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Come on, Willard. Ask me. Have I ever what?"

"Known anyone who committed suicide? Have you--" Willard paused again and swallowed, remembering the sensation of the blade pressed against his wrist. He closed his eyes, wrapped his hand around his wrist, and squeezed gently. "Have you ever tried to do it?"

"Fuck yeah."

Willard's eyes snapped open and he stared at Arthur through the hole. "Tell me about it. Please?"

"Okay. The last time I was in the hospital--I hadn't killed anyone yet. Hadn't even thought about it, to tell you the truth, at least not seriously thought about it, I was locked up because I jumped off the Gotham bridge."

"What? You survived?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and chuckled. "No. You're talking to a fuckin' ghost right now."

"I didn't mean. . .I--"

"Yeah. A guy pulled me out. It's the one and only time in my life someone tried to do something nice for me--at least he must have thought it was nice. I wanted to fucking die, so he didn't do me any favor. I guess he didn't do six other people, including Murray Franklin, any favors, either." Arthur burst into laughter.

It wasn't his condition. This was genuine amusement. By now Willard knew Arthur's laughs. There was his choking laughter from his pseudobulbar effect. Then there was Joker's laughter--high-pitched and sarcastic. His real laughter was so different than both--light and relaxed, with the most endearing little hitches sprinkled throughout.

"And then there was the suicide I'd planned," Arthur said, his laughter fading. "It was supposed to be me dead on Murray's show. That was supposed to be the punch line."

"What happened?"

Arthur curled his lip, his expression suddenly cold. "He pissed me off."

His words and the look in his eye sent a chill through Willard--a chill of both fear and arousal. "I've pissed you off."

"That's different."

"So you don't want to kill me?"

Arthur smiled slightly. "No."

"Even when I scratched you?"

"I wanted to hurt you back, but not kill you."

"Hurt me back," Willard murmured. They both fell silent for a moment and he was struck by tightness and sensitivity below his waist. He reached down and ran a hand over his erection.

"Then there was the time I climbed into a refrigerator, but I don't know if I was actually trying to kill myself. Why are you asking about suicide?" Arthur asked softly. "Have you tried to--"

"I thought about it. It's how my father died."

"He killed himself?"

"In the bathroom at our house." Willard gave a snort of humorless laughter. "For as long as I could remember, he told me I was weak. I wasn't man enough. I was a disappointment. And then he did that, and left me and my mother with nothing but debt and a house that was falling apart--"

"Hey."

"I wasn't as weak as he was!"

"Willard." Arthur reached through the hole and cupped his face.

At his touch, Willard gave a little jolt of surprise and fell silent. He stared at Arthur--eye to eye. His pounding heart slowed. Arthur's hand was cool against his cheek. He stroked Willard's face gently and Willard closed his eyes for longer than a blink. He reached up and hesitantly covered Arthur's hand with his.

"That's better," Arthur said. "If you start yelling, Sausage will bust in there and he might notice the rat hole and--"

"I understand." Willard held Arthur's gaze. He liked the sensation of Arthur's gentle, graceful hand on his face, but he thought about how it would feel somewhere else. Willard was still hard. How would it feel if Arthur touched him _there_? It would probably feel so, so good.

"Do you still want to do it?" Arthur asked.

Willard's heart skipped a beat. "Do what?"

"Kill yourself."

"Oh. That." Willard glanced away again and his face heated. He wondered if Arthur could feel him blush. "No. Socrates stopped me."

"The other rat you told me about?"

During their talks, Willard had mentioned Socrates.

"Yes. He saved my life, but I didn't save his. I should have--"

"Willard." Arthur applied more pressure to his face and their gazes locked again. "We can't change the past, no matter how much we want to."

"Do you want to?" Willard tightened his grip on Arthur's hand.

"Sometimes. Some things. I don't know." Arthur sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes I think it would have been better if that guy just let me drown."

"I'm glad he didn't." Willard rarely acted on impulse, but at that moment, he didn't think. He just listened to his heart, guiding Arthur's hand to his lips and kissing it. His fingers were long and thin, delicate almost, but there was strength in them, too. His nails were far too short, bitten to the quick, but somehow that stirred Willard's feelings for him even more. Despite Joker's bravado, he was still vulnerable. Still human. He still had the ability to feel, and because of him and Hunter, Willard was starting to realize that he could still feel, too. He wasn't cold and dead inside, like he'd felt when he first arrived at Arkham.

Arthur stared at him, a spark in his sleepy eyes. The pills would really kick in soon.

"You should get back in bed," Willard said.

"Don't move." Arthur reluctantly tugged his hand back through the hole. He stood and pulled his blankets and pillow off the bed and stretched out by the rat hole again.

Willard nearly protested. If they fell asleep like this, someone was bound to notice. Then Willard remembered Dr. Lies. For some reason, he was encouraging their relationship. He wanted Willard, Arthur, and Hunter to bond, so most likely their contact through the rat hole would be ignored. Why did he want them to bond? That question plagued Willard. There had to be a reason, and surely it was more than just a doctor's interest in "curing" his patients.

During his meeting today with Lony Seil, Willard had said nothing, and he would continue to hold back until he felt it would benefit him to speak. When Hunter had talked with them during visiting hours, Willard had again voiced his concerns about Dr. Lies. Hunter agreed with his wariness, but Joker believed they should poke the doctor harder and demand answers. There was nothing subtle about Joker.

"I want to ask you something, too." Arthur broke his thoughts.

"What?"

"You touch yourself, right?"

Willard's stomach tightened and his face heated again. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. I've seen you a few times. Playing with yourself."

"Sometimes, Arthur, your crudeness knows no bounds."

He chuckled. "Everyone does it. It's okay. When you do it, what do you think about? Or who?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"I told you about my suicide attempts."

"And I told you about mine. Are our conversations quid pro quo now?"

"Huh?"

"Are you putting a price on what we talk about? Will you only answer me if I answer you? Is nothing going to be spontaneous--"

"Will you stop getting so worked up? I just--I think about touching you, okay? When I touch myself, I sometimes think about you and I want to know if you ever think about me."

Willard's heart beat so hard he almost couldn't hear. This was the weirdest conversation he'd ever had and the most uncomfortable. Talking about his feelings--his desires--was even worse than listening to Mr. Martin berate him.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Arthur said. "But I've been thinking about you a lot and I--" He closed his eyes, an almost pained look in his face. Willard studied him carefully in the dimness. In the shadows, the lines in his face looked even deeper. Before his eyes, Arthur's expression relaxed and his lips curved into a wide grin. The corner of his eye crinkled and he turned back to Willard, still smiling. "I was _embarrassed_ about what I just said, but that's stupid, isn't it? I should know by now that hiding what I feel doesn't make things better. So, Willard, do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?"

Willard gritted his teeth. Joker was trying to bully him into embarrassing himself. Joker had no pride, but Willard did, despite everything.

"All right. Be like that." Joker moistened his lips with the tip of his enticing pink tongue, but there was no missing the glimmer of pain in his eyes. He wasn't toying with Willard.

"Sometimes. . .I do." Willard's voice was scarcely a whisper.

"You do?" Arthur smiled again.

"Yes. Sometimes when I think of you, I get. . .aroused."

Arthur's gaze smoldered. "How about now?"

"I'm--"

"I'll go first, if that helps. I'm really, really hard right now."

Willard's pulse jumped along with his erection. He swallowed. Could he go on with this? Should he? "So am I."

"Will you touch yourself right now?"

"Maybe. Will you?"

"I am." Arthur breathed. His beautiful green eye fluttered closed momentarily and his lips parted. Willard edged closer to the rat hole to improve his view. It wasn't clear at first. Then in the dim light shining in through the glass window on his door, he saw Arthur's hand down his loose hospital pants. He caressed himself slowly, almost gently.

Willard's stomach tightened even more. His penis throbbed and ached.

"Are you?" Arthur asked, a bit breathless.

Willard slid his hand down his pants and curled his fist around himself. His mother's voice rang in his head, dampening his mood.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked softly. How did he know Willard's thoughts had drifted? Everyone seemed to think Arthur was stupid, including Arthur himself, but he wasn't. Uneducated, yes. Unconventional, definitely, but not stupid.

"I was thinking about something my mother said."

"Now?" Arthur grinned a bit. "Why would you think about her now?"

"Because she said. . .I was too old to masturbate. Not that I was actually masturbating at the time, but she thought I was, and--"

Arthur chuckled. "No one's too old to masturbate."

This time Willard laughed, too. "You know, you're right."

"Keep looking at me." Their gazes locked and Arthur continued. "Don't think about her. Just think about what we're doing right now. Are you still touching yourself?"

"Yes." Willard's breathing quickened. The sensation of his hand on his penis combined with the sound of Arthur's voice sent little thrills of pleasure through him.

"I want to see." Arthur slid closer to the hole.

Willard moved back enough to give him a better view. He pushed down his pants, exposing himself completely to Arthur's gaze. His fingers slid through the dark hair covering his groin before he clasped his erection again and stroked himself. His stomach clenched and unclenched and his chest rose and fell faster.

"That's beautiful," Arthur murmured.

Willard tilted his gaze to Arthur. "So are you."

"Yeah? I'm glad you think so."

"I do." Willard closed his eyes, stroking faster. He should slow down, but--

"Oh fuck." Arthur panted.

Willard had to look at him. He forced his eyes open and his gaze met Arthur's. By his soft, hazy expression, he was as close to completion as Willard.

"Keep looking at me." Arthur panted. "Don't stop--"

"Arthur--"

"Don't. . .stop."

"I--ahh! Arthur, oh!" Willard couldn't stop himself. His stroked faster, harder. He writhed and arched, rubbing himself until he lay panting and sated, but he wanted to see--

Arthur's eyes were closed, his chest heaving. Through half closed eyes, Willard gazed at him, memorizing every line and angle of his exotically handsome face, the way his thick, dark curls clung to his damp forehead.

"I wish I had a cigarette right now." Arthur licked his lips and rolled his head toward Willard. He smiled slightly, his gaze heavy with sleep.

"You need to get into bed," Willard said.

"I don't want to move."

"You have to. Go on. See you at breakfast."

"Oh okay." Arthur sighed. With a last look at Willard, he rose slowly. His blankets and pillow disappeared.

"Goodnight," Willard called.

"Sleep tight. Don't let Aristotle bite."

Smiling, Willard picked up his pillow and blanket and tossed them on the bed. He used an old sock--not one of the nice ones Hunter had brought--to clean himself up as well as possible. He could hardly wait for his shower tomorrow. Sleeping while soaked in semen wasn't his idea of pleasant, but it had been worth it.

His encounter with Arthur left Willard pleasantly sleepy, but also invigorated. He climbed into bed and closed his eyes. Just before he fell asleep, Aristotle joined him, curling up under the covers.

Willard was about to drift off, when a repulsive thought crossed his mind. He'd been so wrapped up in Arthur that he'd forgotten about the cameras in their rooms. Someone--maybe Dr. Lies--had probably been watching them.

As if sensing his sudden upset, Aristotle wriggled closer.

"It's all right, Aristotle," Willard whispered, caressing the rat. "Somehow, everything will be all right."


	24. Dr. Lies Tells the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lony decides it's time to tell Arthur what he really wants, but any son of Thomas Wayne knows how to strike a bargain.

Lony worked late several nights a week. Usually it was to observe Arthur and Willard, at least until shortly after lights out. It didn't take long for the sleep medication to take effect, so Arthur usually slept through the night. Willard stayed up long enough to interact with his disgusting rodent friends.

Tonight he surprised Lony by getting out of bed shortly after lights out. He watched him stretch out on the floor near the rat hole. Almost directly after, Arthur joined him on the other side of the wall.

At first, it was just conversation. Lony turned his attention to paperwork to keep himself from total boredom. Every now and then he glanced at the two until their actions were finally worth observing. Torn between amusement and revulsion, he leaned toward the monitors to watch Arthur and Willard masturbating while urging each other on--touching without touching.

Lony hadn't expected Willard to give in so soon. Despite his interest in Fleck, he had continued to hold back. His sessions with Lony had been useless so far. Stiles was intelligent, but he wasn't emotionless. Lony knew that would be his downfall as well as Hunter's and Arthur's. He hadn't expected Stiles to relent yet. This excited Lony more than the disgusting show of human sexuality currently displayed on his monitors.

Curling his lip in revulsion, he watched until they finished. Fleck collapsed into a drugged sleep as soon as he reached his bed. Stiles, on the other hand, cleaned himself as much as he could before curling up on his side. The white rat joined him. Seconds later, Stiles's eyes snapped open and fixed directly on the camera hidden in his room. For a moment, Lony held his breath. Even in the dimness, Stiles's eerie blue gaze pierced Lony through the monitor. Fleck neither liked nor trusted Lony, but his aversion was nothing compared to Stiles's. Stiles _despised_ Lony. In a way it excited Lony, especially knowing that he was in control and would continue to control all three for as long as he desired.

After a moment, Stiles closed his eyes. Lony quickly left his office. He'd had enough of Arkham for today. Enough playing the sympathetic doctor. Stiles and Fleck weren't the only ones who needed some kind of release. Lony did, too, but he didn't want it by rolling around naked with another person. There was a time for that, but not tonight.

Tonight, Lony had another game to play. He chuckled to himself on his way to his car, wondering what everyone would say if they knew what he did in his free time. Surely his parents would turn over in their graves--if he hadn't been the one to put them there.

* * *

The next morning, Lony had a spring in his step on his way to work. Before entering the hospital, he paused at a newspaper vending machine to buy the Gotham Journal. The front page story featured the continued cleanup of the city, including the war against the super rats that had taken over during the lengthy garbage strike a year ago. Lony grinned. Willard would love that. Still, one wouldn't think rats should have front page news.

The page two story was far more interesting. Last night the oldest jewelry store in Gotham had been robbed of nearly a million dollars worth of rubies and amethysts. Royal colors, and apparently fitting. Only a mastermind could orchestrate such a crime.

"Good morning, Dr. Seil," said a passing therapist.

"Hello." Lony grinned and followed her into the building. He took the elevator to his office where he started the morning by looking in on Arthur and Willard. They had already showered and were dressing for breakfast. While they went about their routine, Lony continued with his, looking over paperwork and preparing for the day.

By ten-thirty, he waited outside the room where Arthur and Willard attended group therapy. A few minutes into the meeting, an orderly escorted Arthur out for his one-on-one with Lony.

"I'll take him from here," Lony told the orderly.

"Yes, doctor." The orderly stepped back into the room.

Arthur studied Lony with interest. It was unusual for them to meet outside of the therapy room.

"I thought we'd have a change of scenery today, Arthur. We're going to talk in the exercise yard." There were no monitors there--no one to hear their conversation.

"Why?"

"It's a nice day. A little crisp, maybe, but we can both use some fresh air."

"Can I smoke?"

Lony chuckled. "We'll see. Come, Arthur."

A look of irritation passed Fleck's lined face, but he followed Lony in silence.

Other than an occasional employee stepping outside for a break, the courtyard was empty. Lony guided Arthur toward the far end, away from anyone who might linger outside. They were quite alone. Most staff members wouldn't take such a risk with Arthur Fleck, but Lony feared not a single person in Arkham.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked, skepticism in his voice. He might not be smart, but he had impressive survival instincts. "Why are we talking out here?"

"Because we have private matters to discuss."

"Isn't everything we talk about private?"

Lony smiled. "Arthur, you and I both know that everything you do here is on display, from jerking off in your room to they way you throw your food at Sausage Breath's back when he's not looking. And, eyes, I even know that patients and staff refer to Sam as Sausage Breath."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're special, Arthur. You're better than the others here."

A greedy sparkle lit up Arthur's green eyes. Oh, how he loved attention. Maybe this would be easier than Lony thought. It was disappointing in a way.

Then the look faded from Arthur's eyes, replaced again by skepticism. "You're lying."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"I'm not special. I never have been, and thanks to the awesome care I'm getting here at Arkham, including meds, I'm as stable as I'm ever going to be. Don't tell me I'm special. Tell me what's going on."

Lony drew a deep breath. He almost wanted to laugh. This was actually rather exciting. He hadn't expected Arthur to be this challenging. It must be Stiles's influence. Not Hunter. She was just an average woman of average intelligence with an above average capacity for violence. All of Fleck's newfound savvy must be due to Stiles.

"Arthur, do you remember when I told you that I believed Thomas Wayne was your father?"

"Yeah."

"Have you thought any more about that conversation?"

"I still don't know why you'd believe me when no one else does."

"If Thomas Wayne was the sort of man to leave behind an illegitimate child to be tortured by an insane mother and her sadistic boyfriend, then what makes you think he'd stop at one?"

"What do you. . .I don't get it."

"Yes you do. Do you think you're the only unacknowledged child of Thomas Wayne? He had at least one other child besides you and his beloved Bruce." Lony curled his lip. The boy's name left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Why are you telling me this?" Arthur's voice was soft and uncertain, but his green gaze drilled into Lony.

"Thomas Wayne was my father, too, Arthur. He didn't acknowledge me, either, but my mother wasn't quite a stupid as Penny Fleck. She invested the money Thomas Wayne used to pay her off to keep her quiet about their affair and me. Eventually she found another rich lover. This one succumbed to her charms entirely and married her. I didn't fit in, though, but that was better for me. I spent my youth in boarding schools and then college. It was quite enriching for me."

"Is that why you want to help me?" Arthur asked. His furrowed brow created even more lines in his face. No doubt Lony would eventually look much like him. It wouldn't be fun, but it would be a challenge.

"Not exactly. Yes, I can help you, Arthur, but I came here because _you_ can help _me_. If you listen to me, we can help each other." Lony leaned close to Arthur and whispered in his ear. "I can get you out of here, Arthur. I can help you find a new life."

Arthur stepped back. He lowered his gaze and drew several slow breaths. "Do you have a cigarette?"

A smile tugged at Lony's lips and he tugged a cigarette from his pocket. Arthur took it, but Lony held onto it for a moment so that he could study their hands. Lony kept his nails short, but Arthur’s were chewed nubs. They had a lot to work on.

Again their gazes met, and Lony released the cigarette. He lit it for Arthur who took a long drag. Tilting his head back, he blew smoke toward the twisted branches overhead.

"How?" Arthur asked, finally staring at Lony again, his eyes narrowed. "How can you help me find a new life?"

"I have a plan. It will take a lot of work from both of us."

"More therapy?"

"Not exactly. More like training. And a good deal of acting on your part, but we both know you were born to perform."

"What if I don't want to leave?" Arthur held the cigarette to his lips and drew another puff. "What if I got what I want here?"

"You're referring to Willard and Hunter, of course, not Arkham itself."

"You put us together for a reason."

"Is that your idea, or has Willard been talking?"

"What's the difference? Even if it was just me, I might not want to leave. I don't have the same problems here that I had out there. I don't have to worry about a job, rent, buying meds. I don't have to keep answering dumb questions from social workers who don't give a shit about me anyway. At least here, people sort of see me."

Lony repressed his revulsion. Arthur was so _needy_. How could someone who had been shunned by everyone for thirty six years still crave acceptance and even worse, love? Pathetic.

"You truly want to stay here, Arthur?"

"For now." A smile flirted with his lips. Was he toying with Lony? Was he lying? Everyone knew Arthur lied at the drop of a hat, as they say. "Unless--"

"Unless what?" Lony chastised himself for sounding so eager.

"If I could get out of here and have what I want, too, then I'd be interested."

"And what do you want, Arthur?"

"I don't want to worry about where I'm going to live and whether I can get my meds."

"That's easy enough. Is that all?"

Arthur glanced away for a moment and continued smoking, a distant look on his face, but not in his eyes. Those eyes revealed his lucid thoughts.

"Can you get Willard out, too?"

Lony grinned. Oh, he was so glad he'd seen the opportunity when Arthur showed interest in Willard and Hunter. Leverage. One always needed leverage.

"I'm sure I can," Lony replied.

"Good." Arthur's voice sounded far-off and he continued smoking and thinking for another moment or two. "How about his house?"

"His house?"

"Can you get it back? And if we're out, I want to make sure we can live comfortably."

"You want money?" Lony chuckled.

"I want a good life if I help _you_ help _me_."

"Well, Arthur Fleck, who would have guessed you know how to drive a bargain? I suppose it comes with being a son of Thomas Wayne. We all know how to negotiate. Yes. I can see that you and Willard are comfortable, rich even."

"And Hunter, too. If she wants to stop working in this fucking pit and stay with us, she can be with us, right?"

This was going exactly how Lony had hoped.

"All right, Arthur. You and Willard will be free. You'll have financial comfort, your medication, and you'll have Hunter, too. Anything more?"

Arthur dropped the cigarette and squashed it beneath the heel of his slip-on canvas shoe. Again he narrowed his eyes at Lony. "What do I have to do to get all this?"

Lony's heart pounded, but he willed himself to appear calm. "In exchange for all that you asked for, you give me Joker."


	25. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Seil describes his plan to Arthur, but is it for real?

A shiver ran down Arthur's spine. He swept a hand over his chest and down his clenched belly, hoping to convince himself that he was not hallucinating again. The meds had worked well, but what did he know? Wasn't he crazy, after all?

He stared at Dr. Lies. Had he really just offered Arthur freedom with his new family? But he demanded Joker in return, and that was impossible. Arthur _was_ Joker. Dr. Lies was toying with him--making fun of him. Just like the rest of them!

"Calm down, Arthur." Seil's quiet but commanding voice penetrated Arthur's mind.

"I am calm." Arthur's pulse throbbed in his ears. He didn't try to keep the hate from his eyes or the wide grin from his face. "At least you have a sense of humor. I've never had a doctor here play such a great joke. How about now I get to play one on you?"

Arthur lunged at Dr. Lies, but within seconds, found himself pinned face down on the damp ground, locked in an unbreakable hold. He struggled, gnashing his teeth over his shoulder in an attempt to rip the doctor's face off. Pain shot through him, but as usual when he was in a Joker state of mind, his rage cancelled out physical pain. 

"Arthur, if you don't stop you're going to seriously injure yourself, and for no reason."

Arthur had been restrained before in Arkham, but never like this and not by a doctor. This felt more like when police had arrested him on Live With Murray Franklin.

"I'm not playing a joke on you. What I said is true. We can help each other, but not if you act like this."

"I can't help it. I'm crazy, remember?" Arthur laughed despite the anger clawing his gut.

"All right. I was wrong. I thought we could help each other. I thought you'd want a chance to be free again."

Arthur stilled.The smell of dirt and half-dead grass filled him with every ragged breath. "I told you. I'll never be free. You're lying."

"I'm not, but even if I was, what do you have to lose? Why would I waste my time on a lie like this?"

Arthur didn't have an answer for that, except that he'd known too many people who had done cruel things just for the hell of it.

"Okaayy," Arthur said slowly, trying to sort everything out in his mind. It was impossible, so he just asked the most important question. "What did you mean when you said you want me to give you Joker?"

The following moment of silence seemed to stretch on forever. Then Dr. Seil said so close to Arthur's ear that he felt the warmth of his breath, "I'm going to release you. If you try to lash out again, I'll be ready. I have a lot of training, Arthur, so I promise you won't hurt me like you've hurt others here. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

A moment later, Arthur was free again and Dr. Seil on his feet.

"Dr. Seil? Is everything all right over there?" called an orderly from the doorway.

"Fine. Thank you," Dr. Seil replied.

The orderly hesitated a moment while Arthur stood.

"You sure?"

"Everything is fine, right, Arthur?" Dr. Seil's penetrating gaze drilled into Arthur who nodded.

"Yeah."

The orderly left them alone again.

"Answer me," Arthur pressed, staring into Seil's eyes. "What do you mean you want Joker?"

Seil smiled. "I mean I want to become Joker."

"What?" Arthur curled his lip. Again his thoughts spun. This couldn't be real. It was crazy--even for one of his fantasies. "Why? How?"

"Why? Because Joker is brilliant, and he shouldn't be forgotten, but if you languish here, Arthur, he will be. I want to make it so that Joker goes on."

"I don't get it."

"You can't leave here as Joker. It's not going to happen. But you, Arthur, you can gain your freedom and go on."

"But that doesn't make any sense. I _am_ Joker."

"Joker is a force unto himself now. He's a symbol. You created that, Arthur, but in order to go free, you have to let someone else follow in your footsteps. I want to be that someone."

Arthur stared at Lony, trying to process his words. "And they call _me_ crazy. Why would a man like you want to be like me?"

"Not like you. Like Joker. I know!" Lony held up his hand to silence Arthur's protests. "You _are_ joker."

"I can't just stop--"

"Can't you?" Lony stepped so close that Arthur could count his eyelashes. "If it means you'll be free, if you, Willard, and Hunter can be together outside of Arkham? Before you interrupt, let me answer your other question. How? You'll continue with your medication and therapy, Arthur. You'll continue getting better. If you haven't noticed, you and I look very much alike--a family resemblance for certain. If I shaved and if we matched our weight, we could almost be twins. It wouldn't take much for us to--"

"You want me to switch places with you? How could I do that? I could never pretend to be a doctor--"

Seil laughed. "Of course not. I wouldn't expect you to, but you're on the right track. My plan is for us to become as much like each other, physically, as possible. That will mean you becoming serious about proper diet and exercise."

"I'll never have much of an appetite."

"That's all right. I'm willing to compromise. You gain what you can and I'll lose what I must. I can recommend you for discharge, and believe me, I have connections and can almost guarantee you will be released in a shorter time than you imagine. You'll be released into my custody. Soon after there will be a fight between us, on the Gotham Bridge, during which we'll make the switch. Joker--me--will escape while Lony--you--nearly drowns. Afterward, you're so distraught from the attack that you immediately resign from your job and go into early retirement."

"What about Willard and Hunter?"

"Willard will also be released into my care. Hunter is free to join us, if she pleases."

This was almost too much for Arthur. Was it possible? "Why do you want to be a criminal? You have everything."

"Oh, dear brother, I already _am_ a criminal. I've been one for longer than you, but my crimes have regretfully lacked the pizzazz of Joker. He didn't prompt me to kill, but to challenge myself regarding presentation. When I saw you that night on Live With Murray Franklin, I had no idea then that we were brothers, but I felt a connection to Joker--to you--that I've never felt before. I took full advantage of that magnificent riot you inspired. I'd planned to kill someone that night, but after seeing you, I knew it had to be as a clown. A mask was all I had time for, but that was enough. It was the last thing Thomas Wayne saw before he died--the clown."

Arthur's heart thudded almost painfully in his chest. This excited him and creeped him out at the same time. It made him dizzy. "You. . .killed Thomas Wayne?"

"And his wife. I left Bruce, though. It was probably stupid, to leave any witnesses at all, but he's our brother, too."

Yes. Bruce was their brother. Arthur had never felt any anger toward the kid. He'd even felt a little sorry for him. That day they'd met, through the gates of Wayne Manor, Bruce had looked as sad and depressed as Arthur had felt all his life.

"What do you say, Arthur? Are you willing to do what it takes to get the life you deserve? I won't lie. It will be a lot of work, especially learning to be a strong enough swimmer to save yourself from another fall off Gotham Bridge."

Arthurs stomach lurched.

"Does that frighten you?"

"If I'm going to do that, then I want one more thing."

"More demands?" Lony laughed. "What else do you want? I'm already giving you your family and financial stability."

"I want to learn how to do what you did to me a few minutes ago. I want to know how to defend myself."

"That's a strange request coming from a six-time murderer."

"That worked because I had a gun and I took Randall by surprise."

"And Yeti?"

"I took him by surprise, too. And I was lucky. I'm not that stupid no matter what most people think."

Lony held his gaze, his smile fading. "No, you're clearly not stupid, Arthur. All right. I'll show you how to defend yourself properly."

"How did you learn?"

"Oh, from various people over the years. When I decide to do something, I like to go all the way and learn as much as I can."

Willard was right. This man couldn't be trusted, but what difference did it make? Arthur had nothing to lose, and possibly so much to gain.

"What if I tell someone about this?" Arthur asked.

"I'm assuming you'll tell Willard and Hunter. I plan on talking to them, too. If any of you tell anyone else about it, do you really think they'll believe three accused killers over the word of a psychiatrist with my flawless reputation?"

Arthur opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again. Had he heard right? "What do you mean three killers?"

"You've confessed. Willard hasn't, but it's pretty obvious his rats killed his employer. Hunter might have killed in self-defense, but her methods were as brutal as yours. You make an interesting trio. It's rather touching that you've found each other."

Hunter had killed people? Arthur's gut tightened. Part of him didn't want to believe it, while another part was almost relieved. Then he felt guilty. She'd killed in self-defense. Someone had tried to hurt her. Anger filled him again. He'd fucking destroy anyone who tried to hurt her or Willard. He'd--

"What do you say, Arthur? Do we have a deal?"

Arthur turned away from Seil and paced, running his hand through his hair. He wished he had another cigarette. Finally, he faced the doctor. "I want to talk to them first."

"Willard and Hunter? Of course. Our time is about up for today. You can give me your answer during our session tomorrow."

That wasn't much time, but he, Willard, and Hunter would talk tonight during visiting hours. Dr. Seil walked him back to the therapy room. Arthur sat, deep in thought, still wondering if this was the deal of a lifetime, or another punch line in the comedy of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!


	26. Barefoot in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur tells Hunter and Willard about Dr. Seil's offer. Hunter and Arthur are lured by the promise of a life together outside of Arkham, but Willard warns about the dangers of bargaining.

Hunter sat in silence for a moment, trying to comprehend what Arthur had just told her and Willard. When she had arrived at work that evening, her first task of the night, as usual, was to help serve dinner. When she'd brought Arthur his, he had looked at her with his usual half-smile, but something about him had been different. He'd said that he had something important to tell her and Willard about Dr. Lies. She'd pressed him for more information, but he'd only smiled wider. He wanted to talk to her and Willard at the same time, so she would have to be patient.

No sooner had she joined them at a table in the rec room during visiting hours than he unleashed the details of his earlier session with Dr. Lies. It was so crazy that she thought he'd made it up, either on purpose or possibly because his meds were off and he was hallucinating again.

"You don't believe me," Arthur stared at her with wide green eyes. He looked so vulnerable that she almost felt guilty, but she needed to stay realistic, for his sake as well as hers. What he said about Dr. Seil trying to bargain with him with the promise of freedom couldn't be real. The cold, hard truth was that Arthur would probably spend the rest of his life locked up.

"Arthur, it's not that I don't--"

"I believe you," Willard interrupted. Hunter glanced at him, a pang of sadness darting through her when she realized that she cared so much about them that she had started to ignore their insanity. Sometimes it was difficult to remember, regarding Willard in particular, that they were mentally ill.

"You do?" Arthur turned to Willard.

"Yes, but as tempting as Dr. Lies's offer might be, you can't bargain with him."

Arthur's smile faded to a serious look. "Why not?"

"Because there are only two possible truths regarding his offer. Either he's lying for reasons yet unknown, or he's planning to destroy you once he's finished using you."

This seemed so logical, that Hunter reconsidered the idea that Arthur was lying or fantasizing.

"Destroy me how?" Arthur demanded. "I've got nothing left to lose."

Willard held his gaze. "Don't you?"

Arthur sat back in his chair and bounced his legs anxiously. "I guess you're right. I still have my sense of humor, but he can't take that. If he is doing this just to fuck me over, it will be just another scene in the comedy of my life. The only other things I have to lose are you two." Arthur's brow furrowed and he leaned forward again. The bouncing stopped and a dangerous stillness settled over him "If he hurts either of you, I'll find a way to kill him. On the other hand, what if he's telling the truth and can get us out of here?"

"Never make a bargain," Willard said softly, his blue eyes intense. "Bargains always turn out bad. My father made a bargain with Mr. Martin. The business _he_ started would belong to Mr. Martin, but I would always have a job there. They were both using me. My father could tell himself he paid me back for being my mother's nurse for all those years by making sure I'd always have a job. Mr. Martin got to rule over me like a deranged king, making my life miserable."

"Why didn't you tell him to fuck off?" Arthur asked.

"You know I don't swear."

"And you know what I meant." Arthur and Willard locked gazes. Energy almost crackled between them.

"Willard has a point," Hunter said. "I don't see how any good can come of this. What kind of psychiatrist is he? You're here because Joker killed people, now this nutcase claims that he wants to become Joker? If you ask me, Dr. Lies should be a patient here himself."

"Are you saying this because you don't want any part of me outside of the hospital?" The hurt, angry look in Arthur's green eyes tugged at her heart. The last thing she wanted was to cause Arthur or Willard any more pain than they'd already suffered. This conversation might bruise his feelings right now, but wasn't that better than allowing Dr. Lies to use him for whatever warped reason he might have?

"That's not it, Arthur."

"He said something else, Hunter. He said you killed people."

Willard's eyes widened a bit and his gaze slanted toward Hunter. 

She shifted uncomfortably for a moment. Though she wanted to look away, she continued looking at both men. "It's true."

"Wh. . .what happened?" Willard asked softly. It was hard to tell if he was judging her. When calm, Willard was good at appearing impartial.

She'd come to Gotham to get away from her past, but ever since arriving, she had been reliving it. Still, Willard's question was fair. He and Arthur deserved to know the truth about her.

"I came home one night to find my mother and sister being attacked by two guys who had been hiding in our house. They tried to take me, too, but I fought back and killed them."

Willard and Arthur didn't respond immediately. 

Arthur spoke first. "How did you do it?"

Closing her eyes briefly, Hunter took a breath and released it slowly. "I used the first weapons I got my hands on. A shovel and poker from the fireplace. A knife in the kitchen."

"Good for you." Arthur grinned. "For giving them what they fuckin' deserved."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Willard held her gaze.

"So you see, I know there are sometimes good reasons for violence."

"It's true." Arthur's voice was barely a whisper. "Those Wall Street guys I killed, they had it coming. I don't care what anyone thinks. They would have killed me."

Hunter's stomach clenched. She'd been wanting to hear about this. She wanted to know what Arthur and Willard felt when they killed. The news painted them as monsters, but the news only printed half the story--the story that was comfortable for people to hear, that took the blame off society and placed it entirely on the criminal. It would be nice if life were that clean, but sometimes it was murky. 

"What happened on the train?" Hunter asked softly. "You don't have to tell me--"

"There was a woman, and they were hassling her. I didn't know what to do. I started laughing. One of them sang. He had a fucking awful voice. I can still hear him, messing up that beautiful song." Arthur closed his eyes and sang softly for a moment. Then he opened them, slow and catlike. "They couldn't figure out why I was laughing, so I tried to explain that I have a condition. The next thing I knew two of them grabbed me and held me while the other hit me. I was on the ground. They were kicking and kicking. Then I remembered the gun and I shot them. One of them was hurt, but he still ran. I didn't know what to do. I thought about killing myself. I had the gun to my head, but then I thought why the fuck should I die while he gets away? Why was it okay for him to kick the fuck out of me? No one would care if I was the one dead in the subway. They thought beating me up was fun, that hassling that girl was fun. I'll fucking give 'em fun!" Arthur's eyes glistened and Joker's grin spread over his face. "So I chased him. If he couldn't talk, then he couldn't tell anyone what I'd done. One more scumbag off the streets of Gotham. I did this city a _favor_ by shooting those guys. They were _monsters_."

"But you're right. You would have gone to jail for defending yourself," Hunter said. "It's a lot like what happened to me, except when I played the self-defense hand, it worked. Probably because I'm a woman. A guy like you gets the shit kicked out of him, but he's supposed to take it like a man. I ram a fireplace poker through my attacker and they say 'go girl.' Sexism at its worst, isn't it? No one should have to put up with being attacked. There is no excuse for it. Everyone has a right to defend themselves. So, Arthur, it's not that I don't want anything to do with you outside of Arkham. It's because I don't want you to get hurt again and I don't trust Dr. Seil."

"Neither do I," Arthur admitted. "But what other chance will I have to get out of here?"

"Don't do it, Arthur." Willard grasped Arthur's wrist, rather hard from what Hunter could see. She glanced around, hoping the orderlies and nurses didn't notice. Patients weren't supposed to touch each other. Willard continued, "If he actually wants to be Joker, then it stands to reason he'll have to get rid of you. Maybe he'll do it once you're released, but perhaps not right away. If he claims that he's already committed crimes, and he most likely intends to commit more as Joker, then it would serve him well to have you as a double. He could frame you for even more crimes."

"Don't you get it?" Leaning toward Willard, Arthur lifted his hand, letting it hover close to Willard’s cheek. Hunter’s stomach clenched. They were edging toward dangerous territory. All Sausage needed to know was that Arthur and Willard’s feelings for each other weren’t limited to friendship and he would make life here even worse for them. Then Arthur dropped his hand. "What's the difference if people think I've committed more crimes? It doesn't matter."

"It will if you end up getting killed. I won't have that." Willard tensed visibly. His throat moved as he swallowed. Emotion radiated from him, making his eyes shine with an almost otherworldly light. "I never wanted to care about anyone again, but I. . .I do care about you, Arthur. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

Arthur stared for a moment, naked emotions dancing across his haggard face. He swallowed laughter, and then he let it break over him.

Hunter's brow furrowed. She glanced at Willard, noting his concerned expression. He lowered his head and seemed to retreat into himself. A pang of empathy tore through her. She knew how difficult it had been for him to admit that. Impulsively, she rested a hand on his shoulder. That intense blue gaze shifted in her direction.

"I care about you, too," he told her. His words touched her deeply. Warmth spread through her and she resisted the urge to hug him, unsure of how he would react. This was a big step for him, and she didn't want to frighten him into his usual silence. After a moment, he continued, "I don't want either of you to get hurt, and I'm afraid that if Arthur takes this offer, we'll all be hurt."

"We're stuck here anyway," Arthur said. "I'd rather take my chances."

"What about Hunter?" Willard pressed. "She's not stuck here."

Arthur sighed deeply. His legs bounced again and he raked both hands through his unruly hair. "Fuck. I really wish I had a cigarette. Dr. Seil wants an answer from me tomorrow."

"Don't let him pressure you," Willard said.

"What do you think?" Arthur looked to Hunter.

"I think Willard is right. Seil is either lying to you or he's going to use you. What kind of a psychiatrist wants to become Joker? And what crimes has he committed? What does he really want from us, and is there any truth to his story?"

"You could try to find out," Willard suggested. "You're on the outside, Hunter. Maybe you can look into his past somehow."

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

"I have some suggestions," Willard said. "Will you do it?"

Hunter's heart beat faster. She hadn't planned on investigating Arkham's Chief of Psychiatry, but she hadn't planned on falling for two of the hospital's most infamous patients, either. Willard was right. Being on the outside, she was the only one who could find any answers. The idea of them being freed, of possibly sharing a real life with them was so tempting. Hunter was lonely, and they filled her need for love and the family she craved. She'd never imagined they might have a chance, and part of her knew they didn't. Lony Seil was a lying, manipulative, hateful bastard. He was stringing poor Arthur along, or was he? Again she wondered if she shouldn't be a patient here alongside Arthur and Willard.

"Of course I'll do it," Hunter said. "But it will take time."

"I don't have time," Arthur pressed.

"If you agree to his plan, it sounds like you'll have a lot of time," Willard said. "He won't be able to do all this overnight. It will probably take months. Maybe years."

"Years?" Arthur curled his lip. He narrowed his eyes and grinned. "I'm going to tell him I'll do it. In the meantime, find out what you can, Hunter."

"If this is what you really want, Arthur. You're putting yourself in danger--"

"With guys like Yeti around, I'm in danger every time I step out of my room. With Sausage, I'm sometimes even in danger in my room. The only good thing about this place is that I've been able to get my head together--or as together as it's ever going to be. I want to get the fuck out of here. I want the three of us to go dancing, go to the beach and walk barefoot in the sand. I want to have _fun_."

"So do I, Arthur, but not if it means putting you at risk. Seil's plan about you jumping off the Gotham Bridge again--it's too dangerous. I can't let you--"

"Hunter, I jumped once and survived, right? This time he's going to teach me how to do it right."

Willard stared at Arthur with a look of half-pity, half-annoyance. "There is no right way to jump off the Gotham Bridge."

"I can do this." Arthur grinned. "At the very least it will be good for a few laughs."

Willard shook his head. "You have a strange sense of humor."

"Really? Ya think?" Joker's high-pitched laugh-shriek rang through the rec room.

"Keep it down, Fleck," Sausage called from where he stood by the doorway.

Arthur flipped off Sausage who gritted his teeth and headed for them. Nurse Julie called for his help with another patient.

Saved.

Hunter relaxed, but just slightly. She had so much to worry about now, and she was angry at herself. Angry because she clung to the hope that maybe this would work, but even if it did, it would be terrible. Dr Seil had admitted to Arthur that he'd committed crimes. Clearly if he took over Joker, he intended to use him as a cover--a distraction--for more crimes. How could she knowingly be a part of that? She must be a terrible person.

As Arthur would say, fuck everybody. He was right. If there was a chance that Seil's plan might work, they needed to take the risk, and she had no doubt that they would definitely be in danger.


	27. Pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's another night of deep conversation and intimacy through the rat hole for Arthur and Willard. Willard comes to terms with the truth, and realizes what must be done. He just needs to find a way to do it.

Later that night, Willard lay on his bed, waiting for Aristotle. Staring at the cracked ceiling, he thought about his earlier conversation with Arthur and Hunter regarding Dr. Seil's offer. No doubt he'd hear more about it tomorrow from both Arthur and Only Lies himself.

No matter what Arthur thought, the danger to him wasn't worth the risk.

But would the danger be even worse if he didn't do what Seil wanted? If Seil was as malicious as Willard suspected, he would do anything to get what he wanted, and for some strange reason, he wanted Joker. Willard knew this confused Arthur a bit, and Hunter, too. They weren't separating Joker from Arthur, but Seil was. To him, Joker was an image--a costume he wanted to slither into so that he could manipulate the world without showing his face. Willard understood the appeal. In a way, Joker was fascinating--irreverent, impulsive, and with a flare for the dramatic. Joker aroused Willard. He frustrated and stimulated him in ways he'd never imagined possible. It was an exciting part of Arthur and just as much a part of him as the sensitive, almost childlike man who dwelled alongside his flamboyant counterpart. Only Lies could never truly be Arthur's Joker, but he could steal the illusion.

Would that be enough for him, though, or would he attempt to do away with Arthur? Willard couldn't let that happen, but how could he stop it? He already knew that once Arthur made up his mind about something, nothing could change it.

"Hey, Willard."

At the sound of Arthur's soft voice, Willard glanced toward the rat hole. His heart palpitated and he smiled slightly before wrapping the blanket around him and dropping to the floor so that he could meet Arthur's gaze.

Was it his imagination, or was the hole getting bigger? It definitely was, since he could now see Arthur's entire face. Had Aristotle been especially busy while they slept, or was someone else at work while Arthur and Willard were out of their rooms during the day? 

Arthur smiled and blinked slowly. Willard knew that drowsy expression. Sleeping pills. They probably didn't have long to talk and maybe--

"I can't stop thinking about tomorrow," Arthur said.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Arthur laughed. "I've known that since I killed those guys on the train. If Seil can get us out of here, though, it would be great. We wouldn't have to talk through this hole and we could share a bed. How do you think Hunter would feel about that?"

Heat rose in Willard's face, both from embarrassment and arousal. He was attracted to Arthur and Hunter, but he still hadn't reconciled with the notion that they might actually share a life. Was it even possible? Maybe Willard was crazy after all. Was he making all this up to cope with Arkham? No. Until Ben and Mr. Martin had driven him past his breaking point, he had been stable and logical. Now both were dead and no longer a threat. One day, he would be released from Arkham, even without Seil's help. This arrangement with Arthur would only speed up the process, but his own possible freedom wasn't worth the danger to Arthur.

"Willard?" Arthur prompted, his expression almost innocent. "Do you think she'll be okay with it?"

"I think so." He might be wrong, of course. Maybe she didn't even like them in that way. Just because she cared about them didn't mean she wanted to share their bed. The image of the three of them entwined sent a sexual jolt through him. He drew a deep breath and tried to ignore the sensations below his waist.

"I think she liked the pictures I drew in the sketchbook she brought me. She really seemed to like the one of you and Aristotle in bed."

A slight smile tugged at Willard's lips. Speaking of Aristotle, he should be here at any moment.

"Did you always like rats?" Arthur's green eyes widened with curiosity.

"No. Not before Socrates."

"How about other animals? When you were a little boy, did you have any pets?"

"Not really." Willard sighed. Old memories flooded him. "When I was young, my father had dogs around the house, but he didn't allow me to play with them. I remember once I was petting them, and my father ordered them away. He said they were guard dogs and he didn't want them softened. Everything was business with him. No sentiment."

Arthur reached through the hole and took Willard's hand. It was strange, having someone to hold hands with. Years of emotional isolation told him to pull away, but he didn't have to deny his feelings for Arthur. His father was dead, and Willard made his own choices now--at least as well as he could while stuck in a mental hospital.

Squeezing Arthur's hand a bit, he met his gaze again. "How about you? Did you have any pets?"

"I had a cat once, when I was a kid. It was a stray that used to hang around the project where we lived. I started feeding it and eventually brought it inside. My mother didn't seem to mind at first. Then one day I came home from the job I had at the grocery store and it was gone. My mother said she didn't know anything about it, but I think she was lying. Who knows? Anyway, a few months before I killed those Wall Street guys, I started seeing the cat again in our apartment. It couldn't be the same one. It would have been dead by now, right? Now that I think about it, I don't think the cat was really there."

Willard released Arthur's hand only to reach through the hole to caress his face. He traced the deep lines and enjoyed the tickle of stubble beneath his fingertips. Then he traced the shape of Arthur's lips. They were soft and slightly moist. What would it be like to kiss them?

At that moment it struck Willard that for as long as they were in Arkham, he might never actually kiss Arthur or Hunter. Any touches, any intimate moments, would be stolen or filmed, like now. Without Dr. Seil, this rat hole would have already been filled in. They talked and touched each other because Only Lies allowed it. Only Lies might even be the reason the hole had gotten bigger. Willard tensed and gritted his teeth.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked.

"Nothing." Willard forced a smile. "Are you getting tired?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to go away yet. I want to touch you."

"I want to touch you, too."

"Do you think--can I reach you?" Arthur stuck his arm as far through the hole as possible. Willard's heart raced when he realized that Arthur could touch him _there_. Strange but intoxicating sensations rolled through him and he slid upward, no longer able to see Arthur's face, but giving Arthur easier access to his body.

"I like this." There was no missing the smile in Arthur's voice. He slowly caressed Willard through the thin hospital pants. Willard swallowed, his chest rising and falling with each excited breath. Part of him wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't stop looking at Arthur's hand on his crotch. He could hardly believe this was happening, that he was allowing this. When Arthur slid his hand inside Willard's pants and wrapped his cool fist around his erection, his thoughts blurred. Arthur pumped almost too slowly. It was frustrating but wonderful, this leisurely buildup. Willard wasn't used to lying back and letting someone else control his pleasure. It was so much better, not having to use his own energy, just sprawling there, enjoying someone else's touch. The pleasure was even greater because that someone was Arthur. He almost forgot Only Lies was probably watching right now. He briefly considered stopping this, but he didn't want to. He was exquisitely hard and sensitive. Arthur stroked faster.

"Oh, Arthur." Willard breathed, his eyes fluttering shut. As much as he wanted to watch, the sensations were overwhelming. He needed darkness to focus. Arthur's thumb swept over the crown of his erection, spreading liquid that leaked from the tiny eye. Willard shuddered and groaned, his pulse racing and his breathing out of control. Arthur kept stroking and Willard lost all coherent thought. He arched and bucked, clawing at the blanket, overcome by an orgasmic rush that left him panting and sweat-soaked on the cold floor.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and slid down so that he could meet Arthur's gaze again. Arthur smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming. Willard knew by his expression and the roughness of his breathing that he was masturbating.

"Let me," Willard said softly.

Arthur moistened his lips with the tip of his enticing pink tongue. He slid upward until his mid-section came into view. Muscles flexed in his flat little belly. He'd pushed down his pants, leaving his crotch bare, his erection rising from a thatch of dark, wiry hair. Despite having just ejaculated, Willard tingled with fresh arousal. He reached out and trailed a fingertip across Arthur's stomach, feeling its hardness and the tickle of a few random hairs. He caressed lower, exploring Arthur as slowly and thoroughly as Arthur had explored him. Finally he curled his fist around Arthur and squeezed a bit before stroking in a rhythmic motion that soon had him bucking and groaning. If only he could see Arthur's face right now. Were those beautiful green eyes open or closed? Were those lips parted? They must be. Arthur's harsh breathing reached him even through the wall. A few more strokes and Arthur climaxed. He gasped and moaned, his belly flexing, semen splashing on warm skin.

Willard didn't release him until he was completely finished.

"Arthur?"

No answer.

"Arthur?"

"Mmm."

"Go to bed."

"I wish you were with me."

"I am with you."

"You know what I mean."

Yes, Willard knew. He also knew that the only way they could be together, truly together, would be to get out of Arkham. Only Lies knew that, too.

They had to find a way to beat Only Lies at his own game--to ensure that no matter what, he, Arthur, and Hunter would be safe and free of it all--Arkham and Only Lies.


	28. Swimming Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his way to a "therapeutic" swim lesson with Arthur, Lony reminds Nurse Doreen to keep her place.

Lony didn't try to keep the satisfied smile from his face on his way down the corridor toward Arthur Fleck's room. He shouldn't have been surprised earlier that morning when Fleck had accepted his proposal. Still, part of him had worried that maybe Willard and Hunter might talk him out of it, that by allowing them to sink their claws into Fleck's vulnerable soul, he had destroyed his own carefully laid plans. Not that it truly mattered. One way or another, he would have Joker, but Lony preferred having Fleck alive, at least for now. 

He had been mildly surprised that Arthur hadn't told Hunter and Willard that Lony had killed Thomas Wayne. Arthur hadn't elaborated on their conversation, so Lony guessed that Willard and Hunter hadn't been entirely supportive of their plan. Yes, Fleck was a cunning boy at times, leaving out whatever information suited him whether speaking to Lony or to Willard and Hunter.

No matter. Arthur was willing to work with Lony. With his plan was underway, he and Fleck had a tremendous amount of work to do. There was no reason to postpone it, so even though his workday was over, he intended to have a special session with Fleck tonight.

"Good evening, Doctor," Nurse Doreen said as Lony approached the nurses' station. 

"Hello." Lony nodded. "I'm on my way to get Arthur Fleck."

"Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm taking him to the pool for therapy."

The nurse's brow furrowed. "I don't understand. There's nothing on the schedule to--"

"It's part of his new treatment plan."

"But it's almost time for him to get his sleeping pill."

"I'll give Mr. Fleck his pill after the therapy session. Is there anything else?" Lony stared at her hard, as if daring her to continue overstepping her boundaries.

Doreen shifted uneasily, her discomfort clear in her expression, however he credited her with continuing to hold his gaze. "You said you're taking him to the pool. I'm sure you're aware that in the past he attempted suicide by jumping into the Gotham River?"

"I'm aware of all the facts about Arthur Fleck."

"I can call an orderly to accompany you, in case there are any problems."

"Thank you for your concern, nurse, but if I require assistance, I know where to find it." Lony had enough of her and continued toward Fleck's room.

"Doctor, I don't mean to interfere--"

"Then why are you?" He spun, strode behind the desk, and stepped deliberately into her personal space. 

She took a step back, a look of anger and fear in her eyes. "Because I'm concerned about Mr. Fleck."

Interesting. "What concerns you, besides the pool?"

"Everyone here knows how important routine is for these patients. You're disrupting his."

Lony smiled coolly. "On the contrary, nurse, this will now be part of Arthur Fleck's routine. I fail to understand why you're questioning me. Do you think you're better equipped to treat Mr. Fleck than I am? That you know more than a psychiatrist?"

"No, Dr. Seil."

"I appreciate your concern, but I assure you everything I'm doing is in Arthur Fleck's best interest. Conventional methods don't work on everyone."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Continue with your work. I'm going to get Mr. Fleck. When we're finished, I'll see that he gets his medication and is safely returned to his room." Lony turned his back to her and continued on his way.

The audacity of the woman! How dare she question his authority? He despised insignificant people who had overdeveloped senses of self-importance. He'd love to punish Doreen for her impertinence, but he'd overlook her attempt at interference for now. He needed to focus on Arthur.

Before stepping into Arthur's room, he glanced through the window. Arthur sat on his bed, flipping through the sketchbook Hunter had given him. 

Lony entered and Arthur's gaze shifted toward him, a guarded look on his face. Arthur was such a masterpiece of contradictions. Far stronger than he looked, and with the ability to fight for his life against those bigger, stronger, and even smarter than he was, part of him still jumped and cowered, like one of Stiles's little rats trapped in a corner. Maybe that was part of the attraction between them. If Lony was bored enough, he might eventually find out why the manic menage, as he labeled Arthur, Hunter, and Willard, loved each other so much. From a psychiatrist's standpoint, they were rather interesting, but being a shrink was just part of Lony's life--another set of skills that assisted him with his true calling.

"Hello, Arthur." Lony smiled. "Getting ready for bed? I'm afraid there's been a change of plans. We're on a new schedule now."

"What do you mean?"

"You remember what we talked about at your session earlier? We must prepare ourselves to meet our goal. Tonight, your training begins."

Arthur closed his sketchbook and placed it aside. A wary look on his lined, angular face, he stood and approached Lony.

"Good. No hesitation, I see. This is going to work out well, Arthur, as long as you do your best."

Arthur's green gaze held his. "You, too."

"Oh, I promise I'll do everything in my power to see that you get what you want. Now come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To the pool."

"Why the--"

"We'll talk more in private." Lony glanced toward the corridor. Other patients moved about, ready to get in line for their sleeping medication.

Lony escorted Arthur out of the unit. Some patients stared at them while a few greeted Arthur. Yeti stepped aside as they passed, his gaze never leaving Arthur. Yes, skinny little Fleck had made quite an impression on him. Arthur did have some respectable qualities, though they were few and far between.

At this time of night, the pool was empty. Lony closed the door behind them and stood beside Arthur who stared at the pool, his expression unreadable.

"What's going on? Why are we here?" Arthur asked.

"Why do you think?" 

Arthur strolled toward the pool. He paused near the edge and Lony resisted the urge to shove him in. It would be so funny, but he needed to be careful with Fleck. Gaining his trust had been difficult, and their relationship was still precarious. Losing his trust would be all too easy.

Gazing into the water, Arthur appeared deep in thought. He turned back to Lony with a hard, almost shrewd look in his eyes. Ah, Joker. If he looked this good on Fleck, he'd be exceptional on Lony.

"This has to do with Gotham River, doesn't it?" Arthur asked.

"Do you know how to swim, Arthur?"

"Just a little."

"You'll need to do much better than that if you intend to survive a second fall. This morning you told me you're prepared to do whatever it takes. Is that still true?"

"Yes."

Lony's hands shot out and knocked Arthur into the pool. The deep end. Lony erupted into laughter.

Moments later, Arthur kicked and flailed his way to the surface. Gasping and choking, he swam with weak, uncertain strokes to the edge of the pool where he hung on, spitting water and glaring at Lony.

Squatting beside him, Lony grinned. "Not bad, Arthur, but you're in a nice, calm pool. We have a lot of work ahead of us, but by the time we're ready to put our plan into action, you'll be able to navigate your way out of a riptide in the ocean, let alone swim in the Gotham River."

Hatred glistened in Arthur's eyes, and also uncertainty.

"You're doubting yourself, Arthur. That's understandable, but we both know you're capable of more than you ever imagined. Are you ready for your first swimming lesson?"

"Are you going to try to drown me again?"

"Not tonight, but by the time I try again, you'll be able to save yourself."

"Okay."

"Okay." Lony unfastened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. Then he pulled down his pants to his swimsuit beneath. 

A moment later, he dived into the pool. He surfaced and scrubbed a hand over his wet face.

"If anyone asks, Arthur, these are therapeutic swim sessions, and it's true. Part of our plan is to get you healthy, and swimming is wonderful exercise. You might even learn to like it."

"What's first?"

Lony grinned. Phase one was about to begin.


	29. Love and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur enjoys attention from Hunter and Willard, and he thinks about the value of lies.

Arthur stood shivering outside the pool. Since he was drenched, Arkham seemed even colder than usual. 

"Here." Lony flung a towel at him. 

Arthur wrapped it around himself and wriggled out of the swimsuit Lony had given him. After he had shoved Arthur into the pool, but before they started their lessons, Lony had told Arthur to strip off his clothes and put on the swimsuit he'd brought. Learning to swim properly was harder than Arthur imagined. He'd never been a very good swimmer, but he had learned the basics at a local boys club when he was little. 

After that, he had nowhere to practice. In his neighborhood, the closest thing to a swimming pool had been giant puddles left in the gutter outside the project where he'd lived. The few times Arthur had tried to splash around with the other kids, he'd been knocked down and held under until he nearly drowned. After a time, he'd given up. Sometimes it was better to be alone

Lony's swim lessons sure weren't like the ones at the boys club. Right now, Arthur felt every muscle in his body. It wasn't the same as he'd felt after fighting with Yeti or after rolling over the hood of a moving car. It was more like he used to feel after a long day of performing as a clown--dancing and spinning signs for hour after hour. Arthur dried off and winced a little. Actually, even clowning all day hadn't hurt as much, probably because he was used to it. Dancing had been part of his nature for as long as he could remember. For nearly his whole life it had been the one thing that made him feel good.

"You did well, Arthur," Lony said. "Now we'll get your sleeping pill and some dry clothes and you can get some rest."

Arthur did feel like he'd accomplished something tonight. Maybe Dr. Seil's plan would work after all--if Only Lies was telling the truth.

Once Arthur was locked in his room again, Dr. Seil brought his pill. Arthur didn't want to take it. He was already tired from swimming, but the doctor watched him carefully until he swallowed it.

"Good. See you in the morning, Arthur."

Still shivering, Arthur changed into dry clothes, and then he snuggled beneath the worn sheet and blanket. A few moments later, someone tapped on his door. He turned, hoping to see Hunter.

"Mr. Fleck."

It was Nurse Doreen. At least it wasn't Nurse Julie or Sausage.

"Here's another blanket for you. I'll leave it here." She placed it on the chair and backed toward the door. He grinned and shook his head slightly. He'd never tried to hurt her, but she was still afraid of him. 

"Thank you," he said, but didn't move. He was just starting to warm up a little.

"Hi. Is everything okay?" Hunter appeared in the doorway with her mop and bucket. She looked at Arthur with concern.

Nurse Doreen glanced at Hunter. "I was just giving him another blanket."

"Arthur, why is your hair all wet?" Hunter stepped into the room.

"Dr. Seil had him at the pool for therapy," Nurse Doreen said, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you hurt, Arthur?" Hunter looked concerned.

"I'm fine."

Hunter grabbed the blanket and approached Arthur.

"Hunter, don't--" Nurse Doreen began, but stopped when Hunter spread the blanket over him and sat beside him on the bed.

The nurse shook her head. "I don't understand any of this."

"It's okay," Arthur said softly. "Most of the time I don't understand anything, either."

Nurse Doreen lingered in the doorway for a moment before stepping out and closing the door behind her, leaving Hunter and Arthur alone.

"Arthur, tell me the truth. Are you okay?"

He laughed. "Of course I'm not okay. I'm in Arkham."

"Stop it. You know what I mean."

"Uh, hello. Arthur? Hunter? What's going on in there?"

Willard. Arthur wanted to talk to him, but he was just getting warm and the thought of lying on the cold floor, his hair still soaked with pool water, made him hesitate.

Before Arthur could talk himself out of bed, Hunter dropped to the floor to stare at Willard through the rat hole. "Dr. Lies gave Arthur a little water therapy tonight."

"Hydrotherapy? I didn't think that was legal anymore."

"All he did was give me a swimming lesson, but ya'll sound so worried about lil' ole me. Ah just adore all this attention," he said with a hint of a southern accent. Yes, Joker was alive and well inside Arthur. How was he ever going to give him up to Lony? Anyway, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

"Swimming lessons," Willard murmured. "That makes sense, if he expects Arthur to eventually jump off the bridge again."

"I really don't like this," Hunter said.

"I warned both of you against it. Didn't I warn them, Aristotle?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. I brought him some cheese," Hunter said.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you," Willard said sweetly. A twinge of jealousy darted through Arthur. Why didn't Willard use that tone with him? Not that he was jealous of Hunter, but he couldn't quite figure out how to make Willard like him all the time. Maybe because Hunter was easier to like. Arthur loved her, too. Fuck it. He just wanted everything. Willard. Hunter. Freedom. Love and laughs. It wasn't really too much to ask.

Hunter rose and then sat on the edge of Arthur's bed again. She stroked his hair. "It's starting to dry. Do you need another blanket?"

"No. I'm good." He sighed, closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into the warmth of the shabby old Arkham blankets while enjoying the sensation of her hand on his head. He felt a little bad about not telling her and Willard that Dr. Seil had killed Thomas and Mrs. Wayne. He'd been honest about everything else the doctor told him, but for some reason he feared that if they knew he'd killed the Waynes, they wouldn't go along with the escape plan. It was the only way Arthur could see that would let him have even the semblance of a normal life.

He hadn't lied to them--just omitted one little fact. Even if it had been a lie, he'd learned throughout his life that lies sometimes protected him. He'd learned to lie a lot and no longer felt even the slightest bit guilty about it.

He drifted off to the sensation of Hunter's hand on his hair.


	30. Woman to Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter struggles with guilt and has a heart-to-heart about Arthur and Willard with Nurse Doreen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this story, left kudos and comments. It means a lot!

Hunter watched Arthur sleep for a while. His curly brown hair, sprinkled with silver strands, was almost dry. The lines in his face relaxed a bit, and his breathing was slow and even. She kissed his temple, knowing that it probably wouldn't disturb him.

"Hunter? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, Willard. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I'm worried about Arthur."

"So am I." She was a terrible person, fantasizing about a life with her guys outside of Arkham. Arthur was mentally ill. Lony Seil was probably a monster. Willard was right that they never should have bargained with him. No matter what the mad doctor had in mind, Arthur would pay the price. He'd already been hurt enough in his life. He needed the treatment he was getting at Arkham--not from assholes like Sausage and Dr. Seil, but from nurses like Doreen and from therapists who could help him manage his life. 

Yet, what kind of life would it be? The truth was, he'd never leave Arkham. The crimes he'd committed, no matter how justified, meant that he would remain caged for the rest of his life. She wondered again how Lony planned to get Arthur and Willard released. He was lying, of course. He had to be. 

_Only Lies only lies._

She chuckled--a humorless sound--and then she clamped a hand over her mouth. Arthur was still asleep. Good.

"Hunter?"

"He's sleeping, so I'm going to leave. You should get some rest, too."

"I'm going to spend some time with Aristotle first. I wish you could see how much he's learning, he and his friends."

"Me too." Lately Hunter had been holding Aristotle. She'd always liked animals, but had never before considered befriending a wild rat. She had the "eewww" reaction inspired by the garbage strike, when giant rats gorged themselves on the refuse lining the streets. Now that she'd met Aristotle, she'd developed a fondness for them--not as strong as Willard's, but she understood them better than she'd ever imagined. 

"I worry about him, though," Willard said softly.

"Arthur?"

"Aristotle. If I happen to get out of here, I'd like to take him with me, where he'll truly be safe."

"That won't be too hard. I'll smuggle him out in my bag." 

Silence stretched for several heartbeats.

"Willard?"

"I'm here. I just. . .I want to believe you, Hunter, but I can't help wondering if you're not humoring me--if you think I'm crazy after all. I wouldn't entirely blame you if you do think I'm insane. After all, this is Arkham."

"If you're crazy, then maybe I am, too. I have to get back to work, Willard. Do you need anything first?"

"No. Goodnight, Hunter."

"Goodnight." Hunter tucked the blanket a bit tighter around Arthur and left his room.

She was about to start mopping when Nurse Doreen approached.

"Hunter, will you come with me for a moment?"

Hunter closed her eyes briefly and tried to keep her temper in check. Was she going to have to defend herself yet again because of Dr. Seil's arrangements for her, Arthur, and Willard?

"Sure." Hunter abandoned her mop and followed Doreen to the rec room. At this time of night, it was completely empty. Still, Doreen closed the door and led the way to a chair at the far end of the room.

Hunter waited for the nurse to start.

"I don't really know what's going on with Dr. Seil," Doreen said. "And I still don't know why he's decided to use you to help treat Arthur and Willard."

"Maybe you should talk to him." Hunter stared pointedly at the nurse.

"I've tried, but he told to mind my own business."

"Then why don't you?"

An angry look crossed Doreen's face. "Because my job is to help these patients. I studied hard and paid my dues so that I can make a difference in their lives. Frankly, I don't like the idea of a floor scrubber having more influence over them than I do."

Hunter stared at her hard. "I don't know why Dr. Seil chose me. As for your feelings of inferiority, that's something you need to get straight in your head. I can't help you with that. If there's nothing else--"

"I don't feel inferior, but can't you see that you're not trained for this and that Dr. Seil. . .I don't know what's wrong with him."

Hunter agreed with Doreen, but she was trapped between the Nurse's good judgment and Dr. Seil's insane plan. Maybe this was her chance to tell the truth and get help. No. Doing that would seal Arthur's fate. He'd die in Arkham.

"I don't have to sit here and let you put me down because of my job and your jealousy because Dr. Seil hasn't included you in his treatment plan for Arthur and Willard. Like I said, if you have a problem with him, go to him. Not me." Hunter strode toward the door.

"Hunter, wait. Please." Doreen grasped her arm. Hunter jerked away and spun, staring hard at the nurse. Hunter didn't like being grabbed when she wasn't expecting it. It could be dangerous for the one doing the grabbing. As if sensing that, Doreen took a step back, but continued meeting Hunter's gaze. "I didn't mean to imply that there's something wrong with being a housekeeper. All I'm saying is that I care about these patients, and I think you do, too. I know you haven't been here long enough to see it, but Arthur has made some progress. There was a time when he was constantly restrained, when no one could get through to him."

"And I'm making him worse?" That wasn't her intention.

"No. Dr. Seil is right about him and Willard responding well to you, but the changes in his routine are bound to be damaging. I'm especially concerned about tonight."

"The pool?"

"Yes. If you know anything about Dr Seil that might shed light on his behavior, either good or bad, please let me know. There are steps we can take if he's hurting patients--"

"I don't think he's hurting anyone," Hunter said. At least not at the moment.

"Good." Doreen actually looked relieved.

"Why do you care so much about them? I mean, I know you're a nurse, but I've also seen a lot of people here who don't care. To them it's just a job. I feel like it's more to you."

Doreen folded her arms and turned away briefly. When she looked at Hunter again, her professional coolness was replaced by something more honest, though Hunter couldn't completely define it.

"My father suffered from mental illness. It was difficult growing up with him. My mother and I lived on eggshells, never knowing when he'd be 'normal' and when he'd have episodes. Eventually, he was institutionalized because one night he attacked my mother."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Back then, conditions in hospitals like this--asylums, they were called--weren't like they are now. He was horribly mistreated and eventually died there. My mother and I were devastated. That's why I decided to become a nurse in the mental health field. I don't want these patients to suffer like my father. I don't want other families to go through what mine endured."

"Then I'm glad you're here for people like Arthur and Willard," Hunter said. "But I care about them, too."

"I believe you do." Doreen held her gaze. "That's why I'm concerned about all three of you. I empathize with them, Hunter. I want them to be as well and happy as they can ever be, even in here, but I know better than to get too attached to them."

"I know my boundaries."

"I'm not talking about rules and regulations. Sometimes we can't help how we feel. I don't want you to get hurt, either. That's why I have to be honest with you. I don't know enough about Willard Stiles yet to make a judgment, but I know Arthur Fleck. There's a childlike vulnerability to him, a sweetness that can trick you into letting your guard down, but he's sick, Hunter. Even if he doesn't want to, he'll end up hurting you if you start to think of his gentle side as normal."

Hunter sensed that Doreen was being genuine. Why would she say any of this if she wasn't really concerned? "You keep saying that, but you also admitted that he's never tried to hurt you."

"Like I said. I keep my guard up."

"Did it occur to anyone that he's only hurt people who've hurt him?"

"He murdered his invalid mother."

Hunter continued holding Doreen's gaze. Growing up in foster homes, she'd known too many kids abused by both their biological families as well as foster families. It took a fucking lot more to being a parent than giving birth. 

"From what I remember reading in the news around the time he was arrested, she wasn't mother of the year," Hunter said. "She and her boyfriend used to tie him to a radiator, starve, and abuse him. I guess because she got old she should have had a free pass for taking part in the torture of a three-year-old child."

Doreen's expression turned from uncomfortable to haughty. "I'm not going to argue morality with you. If you want to go ahead and justify his mother's murder, that's your business. What about Murray Franklin? The only thing he was guilty of regarding Arthur Fleck was goading a mentally ill person in the midst of an episode."

"So that was all on Arthur, too?"

"No. I said he's not always in control of himself, but I'm sure Murray Franklin didn't expect to die because of his poor judgment. What makes you think that Arthur won't turn on you if you say something he doesn't like?"

Hunter had said a few things Arthur didn't like. They'd talked it out. Besides, if he attacked her, Hunter would defend herself, and she had a better track record when it came to fucking people up without the help of a gun. Of course Doreen didn't know about that, and Hunter wasn't about to tell her.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Hunter said.

Doreen stared at her for a moment, and then she shook her head. "I can't help feeling like someone is going to get hurt. Please be careful, Hunter."

"I will. I really do appreciate your concern."

"We'd better get back to work."

They left the rec room. Doreen returned to the nurses' station while Hunter passed by it to the mop and bucket she'd abandoned between Arthur's and Willard's rooms.

While she worked, her thoughts churned. She didn't dismiss what Nurse Doreen said. The woman was right in lots of ways. Guilt plagued Hunter because she knew Arthur and Willard were mentally ill and she was fucking with their lives, but somehow they had already become her life. Even if they remained in Arkham forever, she saw herself as a little old lady, taking the elevator up to their unit for visiting hours. Only to leave alone. Again.

She couldn't let that happen. They were a family and they had to be together. It was going to be a long night and an even longer day. She'd promised Willard that she'd research Dr. Seil. So far she hadn't been able to locate much information, but she had a few days off work and intended to spend nearly every second digging for anything she could find about Lony Seil and his credentials as a doctor.


	31. History and Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter visits Arthur and Willard on her day off, bringing information about Only Lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry today's update was a little later than usual. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

Lately Willard had so much on his mind that it started to affect his sleep. He couldn't let that happen, or he at least needed to make a conscious effort to hide it from his keepers, otherwise he'd be forced to take a sleeping pill like Arthur and most others in Arkham.

Knowing that Arthur had agreed to Dr. Lies's plan, that the twisted psychiatrist had already started torturing Arthur with his "swimming lessons" gnawed at Willard's gut just as Aristotle and his friends gnawed at the walls of Arkham. As tempting as the idea of early release and possibly sharing his life with people who truly understood him, he hated knowing that the decision to cooperate with Dr. Lies would wreak havoc on their already tumultuous lives.

It was just before visiting hours, and Willard had chosen to rest rather than join the others in the rec room. Since Hunter wasn't scheduled to work, he would have no visitors. Maybe if he napped a bit now, even if he couldn't sleep tonight, he wouldn't feel tired in the morning. He hadn't gone to the rec room earlier, either.

Hunter had promised to research Dr. Lies on her time off. Perhaps once she provided information, either good or bad, and they were more certain about what they were dealing with, Willard would be able to sleep. The unknown tormented him. It always had. That was the reason he'd kept on working for Mr. Martin--fear of leaving a job he'd worked at for most of his life to start again. 

Clenching his fists and his teeth, Willard closed his eyes. He'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't fall into old patterns--that his days of fear and anxiety and passivity were over. It had almost worked--until now. He was afraid again, not for himself, but for Arthur and even Hunter. Willard had spent his life around manipulative men. He knew how to survive around them, even if it meant killing them, but a man like Only Lies could do irreparable damage to Arthur and Hunter, even if they were killers themselves. Like Willard, they had lashed out because they had been pushed too far, but looking into their eyes, Willard knew they still had emotions. He had to find a way to keep them safe from Dr. Lies. He had to convince them that no matter what deal they made, Dr. Lies could never, ever be trusted.

"Hey, Willard."

Arthur. 

Willard lay on the floor and faced Arthur through the rat hole.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked. "Why didn't you come to the rec room?"

"I needed some time alone. Did you do any sketches?"

"Yeah. I'll show them to you during visiting. . .Ahh. That's right. Hunter has the next two days off." Arthur sounded as disappointed as Willard felt. It's funny how he never really depended on anyone for companionship. The only person he truly missed was his mother after she died, but there had also been a sense of relief. He'd loved her, but he hated her unintentionally cruel words. Spending all his spare time caring for her and the house had been difficult. Yet after she was gone, his only purpose had been the rats. Revenge. Truly, he hadn't expected to live this long. Live? Though a man in his early thirties, he had never really lived--never experienced anything outside of work and care giving. Training rats had been the first thing he'd ever done for himself, and he'd been good at it. 

Willard might look like a failure, but he had potential. If he ever got out of Arkham, this time he would live up to it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Arthur asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"You look like you zoned out--like you looked when you first came here."

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"My mother."

Arthur blinked slowly. Those big, soft green eyes touched a part of Willard he never knew existed. "You think about her a lot, huh?"

"I guess. She was my family."

"I think about my mother sometimes, too, but I try not to."

Willard wasn't sure how to reply. Whenever Arthur brought up the mother he'd murdered, Willard wanted to offer comfort, but what did one say to a man who had committed matricide? At least Willard's mother had loved him in her own way. She had never tortured and starved him or allowed anyone else to do so. Even his father had been strict and unyielding, but he had supplied the basic necessities for Willard as well as paid for a good education. Looking back, Willard realized that maybe his father had done the best he could, considering how much he lacked emotionally.

The thought of Arthur as a child, tied up, starved, and abused, disgusted him.

"Then don't think about her," Willard finally said. "If you don't want to."

"Sometimes I still can't believe what she did." Arthur rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The lines in his face seemed to deepen. He withdrew into himself, and that was something Willard understood. 

Hesitantly, he reached through the rat hole and caressed Arthur's cheek. Arthur closed his eyes, his lashes thick and dark against his face. He wondered how it would feel to hold Arthur--to kiss him. He'd thought about doing such things to both Arthur and Hunter. Sometimes, when Hunter stepped into his room or when they talked during visiting hours, he sensed that she wanted to touch him, too. She held back, though. Or maybe he was reading her incorrectly. The last woman to touch him intimately had been Cathryn. Intimately. Willard gave an ironic little laugh. He'd never been truly intimate with anyone, except for Arthur, and even that had been through a rat hole.

"I know. It's funny, right?" Arthur grinned and turned to meet Willard's gaze again. "My life was a big joke from the first."

"I wasn't laughing about what your mother did." Willard shook his head, his smile fading. "That wasn't funny. It was cruel, and you didn't deserve any of it. No child deserves that."

"Well, it's either laugh or cry, right? And laughter is in my nature. Why fight it?"

Someone tapped on the door, and Willard jumped up just before Nurse Julie stepped into his room. He hated her shifts. Nurse Doreen was much nicer.

She cast him her usual cool glance. "Visiting hours have begun, and you have a guest."

Willard's brow furrowed.

"Come, now, Willard. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You and Arthur have the same guest every night."

Hunter? She was here on her day off?

Willard rose and instinctively smoothed his ugly hospital issue clothes--not that it helped. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he looked awful.

"So, you know who I'm talking about." Nurse Julie smirked and shook her head. "I don't know what Dr. Seil is thinking, encouraging your sick little trio."

Willard was surprised that Julie had let him know Hunter was waiting, yet if she refused, Hunter would surely report back to Only Lies, and Nurse Julie would be called out for disobeying his orders.

She left the room and Willard stepped out, meeting Arthur in the hall. 

His sketchbook clasped to his chest, Arthur smiled, his green eyes vibrant. "She's here."

"Yes." Willard remained outwardly calm, though his heart beat faster. He wondered if Hunter had uncovered any information about Dr. Lies. She had promised that she would do research on her day off.

In the rec room, Hunter approached Arthur and Willard. It was strange, seeing her dressed in something other than her work uniform. The white turtleneck and black leggings showed off her tall, athletic frame. So many times Willard had imagined how her long legs would feel, wrapped around his waist.

He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and tried to ignore the tingling in his nether regions. 

"She looks beautiful," Arthur murmured. His gaze met Hunter's and he repeated. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you, Arthur." She smiled, a most endearing expression of pleasure seasoned by a hint of surprise on her face.

"You do," Willard said. "Very beautiful."

"Thank you." Her warm, brown gaze met Willard's. Sometimes Cathryn had looked at him like that, but it was before she realized the truth. Hunter looked at him like that now, even though she knew everything he'd been accused of--everything he'd done. Maybe he could trust her after all.

"Let's go over there." She pointed to a table in the far corner. "So we can talk. I've got a lot to tell you guys."

Willard's heart beat even faster. His breathing quickened, but he focused on controlling it. Hunter must have news about Only Lies. She had kept her promise.

Once seated, they leaned toward one another. Arthur and Willard gazed eagerly at Hunter.

"Okay, I spent most of the day researching Only Lies. Willard, all the tips you gave me about the library and public records worked. Apparently he has quite a history."

"Don't keep us waiting," Willard pressed. "What did you find out?"

"He was born on April first in nineteen forty-three to June Napier. When he was a year old, his mother married Albert Smith, a real estate tycoon from the west coast."

"Who was his father?" Willard asked.

"Nothing is mentioned about his father, however, at the time he was born, June was working as Thomas Wayne's personal secretary, so it fits with what Dr. Seil said about being Arthur's half-brother. He was also a very bright child and graduated high school early--sixteen years old. From there he went directly to college where he got a bachelor's degree in psychology. After that, strangely enough, he joined the army where he served three tours of Vietnam. During his last tour in nineteen sixty-nine, he was injured and given a medical discharge."

"That must be where he learned," Arthur murmured, narrowing his eyes and absently rubbing his bottom lip with the tip of his thumb.

"Learned what?" Willard asked.

"How to fight."

"How do you know he can fight?" Willard wondered exactly what had gone on during Arthur's "swimming lesson."

"Just something we talked about. What else did you find out?" Arthur focused his wide eyes on Hunter, but he wasn't fooling Willard. For some reason, he didn't want to talk about everything that happened between him and Only Lies. For all they knew, he could be manipulating Arthur in any number of ways. As much as Willard had grown to care about Arthur, he couldn't deny that Arthur actually suffered from mental illness and that could be used against him.

"He didn't waste any time after his discharge," Hunter continued. "He went directly to med school and spent the next eight years becoming a psychiatrist and then four more after that in practice. Now here he is, Chief of Psychiatry at one of the most famous mental hospitals in the country. The guy is really motivated. No doubt about that. If I didn't know what he said to you about having committed crimes, I'd never believe it."

Willard's stomach clenched. Anger coiled inside him. "He's smart. Imagine what a great criminal he makes. He has background in combat training and in psychology. If he can't out-fight his enemies, he can out-think them. He's been intelligent enough to hide his own psychopathic tendencies from his superiors."

"I just wonder what kind of crimes he's committed, and when did he start?" Hunter mused aloud.

"When did he change his name?" Willard asked.

"Huh?" Arthur asked. "What do you mean?"

"Hunter said his mother's name is Napier and his stepfather is Smith. When did he change his name to Lony Seil?"

"When he turned eighteen," Hunter replied.

"I wonder why?" Willard murmured, more to himself than to his companions.

"Maybe he hated the name. If I knew how, I'd probably change my name, too," Arthur said. "Fleck. I hate that name."

Smiling at him, Hunter asked, "What would you change it to?"

"I don't know. I never really thought about it. It doesn't matter anymore, right? I guess in a way I changed it to Joker."

Willard fixed his gaze on Arthur. "But you're selling that name to Only Lies."

Anger flashed across Arthur's face. His glittering green gaze fixed on Willard and he grinned--Joker's big smile. How could any of them think that he could ever separate himself from Joker? Surely Only Lies knew that better than anyone. Now that Willard knew his background, there was no doubt in his mind that Only Lies was up to no good. They were bargaining with the proverbial devil.

"He's a very dangerous man," Hunter said, as if reading Willard's thoughts.

"But he's still just a man," Arthur replied, his grin bigger than ever.

Truer words were never spoken, but to defeat an enemy like this, they would have to be careful, clever, and vicious, or else they would end up dead. Willard once thought his life was almost finished. Now he wanted very much to live, and he wanted Arthur and Hunter to live.

"We can't drop our guard," Willard said. "He has all the advantages."

"But we have one thing he doesn't," Arthur said.

"What's that?" Willard asked.

"We're fucking desperate."

Hunter chuckled softly and shook her head. "That's not funny, Arthur."

"Yes it is, and I won't pretend it's not." He batted his long lashes.

Hunter placed her hand over Arthur's and they grinned at each other.

"You couldn't find anything else?" Willard asked. "He's not tied to any crimes?"

She shook her head. "He's either lying about being a criminal, or he's great at covering his tracks."

"I'll go with the latter," Willard said. "Now if we--"

"Sausage on the way," Arthur said quickly.

"What's going on over here?" Sausage Breath loomed over their table, directly between Willard and Arthur. The orderly's halitosis nearly made Willard gag.

"Just talking," Hunter said.

"About what?"

"That's none of your business." Arthur raised an eyebrow, a rigid grin on his lips.

"You're not getting loopy, are ya, Fleck? Because If you don't behave, I'll haul your ass back to your room and--"

"Sorraay, but I'm not that kind of guy." Arthur batted his lashes again.

Curling his lip, Sausage smacked a heavy hand on the back of Arthur's chair. Leaning closer, he whispered, "One of these days, you little twerp, I'm going to--"

"What?" Hunter shot a look of death at Sausage Breath. "You're going to what?"

"Oh shut up." Sausage Breath straightened and walked away.

"Phew." Arthur waved his hand in the air. "His mouth smells like the Gotham streets during the garbage strike. Since I cut down on cigarettes, he smells even worse."

Again Hunter laughed and this time Willard couldn't keep from smiling, too. 

They spent the rest of the visiting hour chatting about "normal" things and looking at the new sketches Arthur had done. It was a pity that he'd never had the opportunity for better education. Arthur had considerable artistic talent.

All too soon, it was time for Hunter to go.

"I'll be back tomorrow night," she said.

"It's your day off. You don't have to come in if you don't want to," Willard told her.

"If you don't want me to--"

"It's not--It's not that." Willard shifted his gaze from her to his lap and then back to her again.

"I want you to," Arthur said. "But I get what he means. I wouldn't want to go to work on my day off, either."

"This isn't work. I. . .I really miss you guys when I'm not here."

"You do?" Arthur's green eyes softened.

Her words touched Willard, too. It felt good to be wanted again. Since his mother died, no one had wanted him. Not really. Cathyrn had tried to be friendly, but he often wondered if it was only because she felt sorry for him. 

"Yeah. I do." Hunter gazed at them with a look of affection and longing. 

He knew how she felt. Ever since Arthur had told them about Only Lies's plan, Willard had tried to remain impartial, but he couldn't help fantasizing about being free of Arkham, living happily with Arthur, Hunter, and Aristotle. 

"I'd better go before Sausage Breath or Nurse Julie throws me out." Hunter rose.

"Here take this." Arthur tore a page from his sketchbook and handed her a picture he'd drawn of the three of them walking on the beach. Hunter wore a tacky-looking hula skirt and a wide-brimmed hat. Aristotle perched discretely on the brim, half hidden by a giant tropical flower. Arthur and Willard had on swimming trunks with coconuts and pineapples all over them. The drawing was just so. . .Arthur. 

"I love this." She gazed at the sketch and smiled. "I'm going to get a frame for it on my night table."

"Good. Then you won't have to miss us so much. We'll be right there," Arthur said.

If Willard didn't know better, he'd think Arthur feigned his innocent side, but it was real. As real as Joker.

"Bye." Hunter hugged Arthur tightly. He squeezed her, his eyes closed and his head resting against her shoulder.

When they parted, she turned to Willard. Their gazes met and she smiled at him. "Goodnight, Willard."

"Goodnight." Would she hug him? He wanted her to, but he didn't want to initiate it. What if--

She hesitated a moment, and then she slid her arms around his neck. He closed his eyes and hugged her, relishing the sensation of her slim body against his, the softness of her breasts against his chest. Her scent--mild soap and almond shampoo--filled him with every breath.

Finally she stepped away. With a last glance at him and Arthur, she left.

"We've got to get out of here," Arthur said in a rough whisper.

For once, Willard didn't argue.


	32. Joker, Not a Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter confronts Lony.

Late Wednesday afternoon, Lony waited in his office for Hunter to arrive. She had asked for this meeting regarding Arthur, and while Lony was curious about what she had to say, he had made her wait several hours before returning her call to schedule this appointment. The manic menage needed to remember that he was in charge, and that any liberties they've enjoyed could be snatched away. At the same time, he needed to maintain their trust. It was a fine line he walked, but that made his scheme more exciting.

Two sharp taps on his door brought a smile to his lips, but he wiped it off before calling, "Come in."

Hunter entered the office, her expression serious--almost angry. She strode confidently to his desk. Her attitude was mostly bravado. He made her uneasy. Still, her past proved that she didn't back down from uncomfortable--even terrifying--situations. 

"Have a seat." He gestured toward an empty chair across from his desk.

She dropped efficiently onto it.

"You said you'd like to discuss Arthur." He leaned back on his chair, his hands resting lightly on the firm leather arms. He stared into her eyes, trying to read the emotions hidden behind those cool brown depths. Under different circumstances, Hunter could be a formidable woman, so much more than a housekeeper. Average academic intelligence often had little to do with survival skills, and in that realm, she excelled.

"I want to know what you're trying to do."

Well, that was point blank, but he could work around it. "Please be more specific."

"What are you trying to do to Arthur? Why are you messing with him, and with me and Willard?"

He stared at her. His first instinct was to tell her to fuck off and then make certain she keep her silence. His fingers itched for violence. Lately he'd been so focused on Arthur that he'd neglected his own needs. Still, doing away with Hunter wasn't part of his plan, at least not at this time. Lony reminded himself that he was the one who had encouraged the manic menage, so he had to accept a few little disturbances such as this.

"Let's talk outside." Lony rose.

Hunter remained seated, staring up at him. "Why? Are you afraid you might be watched in here? That you're not the only one spying?"

"In case you've forgotten, Hunter, this is a mental hospital. Spying, as you call it, is for the good of patients and staff. However, if you want a truly private conversation--"

"I couldn't care less if it's private or not."

His brow furrowed. "But you should. Remember, you're not a patient here, so if it appears like you're doing things to harm them--"

"I'm not the one doing harm."

"Our superiors might not agree with that. Now, I'm very interested in what you have to say, but I'm going to take a walk. Feel free to join me."

Lony strode out of the office. A faint smile tugged at his lips when he heard the soft tap of Hunter's rubber-soled shoes behind him. She caught up quickly, and within moments, they were in the exercise yard. 

"What has you suddenly so upset about our arrangement?" Lony asked once they had reached the center of the yard.

"I've been upset about this arrangement from the first."

"I thought you wanted to help Arthur and Willard?"

"Help them. Not use them to fulfill some sick fantasy of yours."

Lony smiled--Joker's grin. Even before Arthur had flaunted Joker on national television, Lony had felt him deep inside. Like Arthur, his sense of humor ran contrary to what society considered funny and acceptable. Most people couldn't see the humor in pain, anguish, and cruelty. 

"You have sick fantasies, too, Hunter. We all do. It's just that you, me, Arthur, and Willard are helping each other turn our fantasies to reality."

"I know it's wrong to want relationships with Arthur and Willard. It's wrong to go along with your plan, and I've been thinking that maybe I shouldn't."

"Why is it wrong? Love has no rules, Hunter. It's an emotion. Something beyond our control." If she's admitting that she wants a relationship with Arthur and Willard, then it would be easy to convince her that there was no shame in it. At times he wondered about her attraction to a scarecrow like Fleck and a rat-obsessed freak like Stiles, but to each her own.

"You don't use someone you love to get what you want."

"What about what _they_ want? You know as well as I do that Arthur is never getting out of Arkham, and if by the slim chance he does, he'll most likely go right to prison. He killed six people."

"I know." Hunter's voice was scarcely a whisper. For the first time, her cagey look faltered a bit

Good. Lony resisted the urge to smile again as he pounced on her moment of weakness and continued, "No one will care that they were gutless scoundrels who threatened women and beat up men half their size. The people will remember three squeaky-clean white-collar gentlemen robbed of their young lives. No one gives a damn that he killed a bitch who not only overlooked but participated in the brutal physical, sexual, and psychological abuse of her three-year-old child. All people remember is that he suffocated a helpless, elderly lady who adopted him. It doesn't matter that he killed a thug who spent his life bullying others and supplying firearms to a mentally ill, suicidal man. They'll just see another murder. And it certainly won't matter that an armchair psychiatrist and horrendous comedian desperate for high ratings goaded a tormented man in the midst of a psychotic episode. The public remembers a beloved talk show host brutally shot to death on live TV."

He wished everything he said had been lies. Lies were so much more fun than the truth, but in this case, he had simply stated the facts. Arthur was guilty of murder, and people wanted to see him pay for it. Society protected people like the ones he'd killed because so many people shared their faults. If they admitted any one of Arthur's victims deserved repayment, then they had to question their own faults--the times they'd been cruel, selfish, or ignored the suffering of others. The times they might have even caused suffering.

Lony truly didn't give a damn if people tortured each other. Unlike most of the general public, he didn't try to hide his cruelty or make excuses for it. Sometimes he enjoyed watching people squirm. That's why Joker was so brilliant. He had always been inside Lony--a sick bastard who laughed in the face of pain and suffering, but it was Arthur who had given Joker his face. His beautiful, painted face that would one day belong solely to Lony.

"You know I'm right, Hunter," Lony said as gently as he could muster.

She knitted her eyebrows and stared past him for several moments. Then she met his gaze again, a look he couldn't quite interpret in her eyes. "How did a man like you get to be a psychiatrist? Didn't anyone along the way see that you need a psychiatrist yourself?"

He chuckled and lightly patted her shoulder, but she jerked way. "Hunter. My dear Hunter. I've been blessed with certain gifts. If you haven't noticed, I can be quite convincing. I know enough about the human mind to manipulate even those who've studied it into believing that I'm normal. What is normal, really? A way for unremarkable people to live their lives in ignorant bliss? A way for those with true power to herd them like sheep? Fattening them up and leading them to slaughter at will? People like me and you see the world for what it is. Even Arthur and Willard have managed to rise above average people. There are others free on the streets more apt to do harm than people like Arthur and Willard--like you, even--who have chosen to kill only for revenge. Some people kill for fun instead."

"I know what some people do for fun." Hunter glared, her voice dripping venom. Sometimes he really liked Hunter. It was almost worth wasting his time to convince her to stay on their side.

"This is the only way Arthur will ever be free. He'll have the chance for a new life. So will you and Willard."

"But what's in it for you, other than Joker? You're not the kind of man who wants to help others out of the goodness of his heart."

"Maybe not, but I'm a fair man." Lony continued holding her gaze. He never faltered when he lied. "I'm willing to pay a fair price for something as exquisite as Joker."

"And if you make this deal with us, you'll expect loyalty?"

He laughed. "Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. I might be Joker, but I'm not a fool. I expect you three to hold up your end of the bargain. Nothing more." Lony glanced at his watch. "If we're finished here, I have a meeting to attend." 

"One last question. What crimes have you committed?"

"Crimes? I'm a doctor, not a criminal." He winked. 

"Arthur said you told him you've committed crimes."

"What else has he said?" Lony studied her carefully. Arthur had said he hadn't told Hunter and Willard that Lony had murdered the Waynes. "Did he mention any specific crimes?"

"No, but I'm asking you. What have you done?"

"No worse than any of you." Lony stared into her eyes. "And I have no intention of disclosing any details. Right now, I'm Chief of Psychiatry here at Arkham. That's all you need to know."

She didn't glance away, but stared at him with a shrewd, searching look. He wondered if she'd ask anything more.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Seil."

"You're welcome, Hunter. Now, shall we go inside?" He gestured toward the door.

She turned and headed toward it. Behind her, Lony itched to snap her slender neck. He flexed his fingers and balled them into fists for a moment, keeping his desire in check.

That talk went rather well. Tonight, he and Arthur would have another lesson. He was progressing even faster than Lony had imagined. Freedom was apparently a strong motivator for his dear half-brother. Arthur would even get to enjoy it for a while--perhaps a very long time. If Lony played his cards right, he might never need a decoy. Either way, he held the lives of the manic menage in his capable hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the first part of the story! The next chapter jumps ahead several months. Arthur has been progressing, and his new skills combined with Joker's "attitude" will cause a few stirs. Lony has been keeping up his end of their bargain, and together with Hunter, he's preparing for Willard's release from Arkham. 
> 
> Thank you for staying with this story, and I hope you enjoy what's coming up in part 2!


	33. Getting Physical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Willard enjoy a workout. It's been four months since the trio agreed to Dr. Seil's plan, and things are changing.

_Four Months Later_

Arthur stared through the rat hole, devouring the sight of Willard exercising. Every lean muscle in his body tensed and worked together. 

Push ups. Squats. Sit ups.

Several months ago, around the time Arthur's swimming lessons started, Willard had begun a daily calisthenics routine. At first he hadn't allowed Arthur to watch. He'd glared at Arthur, demanded privacy, and covered the rat hole with his pillow. Eventually he'd stopped covering it, but pretended to ignore Arthur.

It was funny, how watching someone work out was such a turn-on, but only because that someone was Willard.

Willard said that before his mental breakdown, he had exercised regularly. Calisthenics had been his choice, since he could easily do it at home in between caring for his mother. He said exercise was important for good health, and right now he and Arthur needed to be as healthy as possible for whatever challenges Only Lies threw at them. Hunter already stayed strong working out at her gym. Arthur sometimes daydreamed about her and Willard working out together, and even better, the three of them working out in the bedroom.

Swimming was Arthur's exercise now, and he'd gotten surprisingly good at it. When he first started, he wasn't sure he'd make it through Only Lies's lessons, but eventually his body adapted. Though his appetite still wasn't good, he'd forced himself to eat more. Only Lies was pleased that he'd gained some weight. In a way, Arthur felt better--stronger and not so light-headed at times. He often wondered if this was how "normal" people felt.

His wandering thoughts snapped back to the moment.

Willard ran in place for a time, and then he jumped, tucking his knees almost to his chest over and over. His heavy breathing reached Arthur through the rat hole. Sweat dampened Willard's dark, glossy hair. His plain blue hospital shirt clung wetly to his lean, broad-shouldered body. His handsome face glistened. A look of complete focus shone in his vibrant eyes.

Stretched out on the floor, Arthur slid his hand down to his stiff penis and stroked while staring at Willard. It wasn't unusual for him to jerk off during one of Willard's exercise routines. He wasn't always sure if Willard noticed, but he must know about it. It was just like Willard to pretend he didn't care--or even see--how much he turned Arthur on. Sometimes Willard could be a frustrating bastard. At other times, he'd touch Arthur with affection and look at him with naked emotions in his beautiful blue eyes, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to hold and kiss him, but the wall always separated them. If it wasn't the wall keeping them apart, it was Sausage or Nurse Julie and their relentless spying.

It was the same with Hunter, but at least because of Only Lies, she was allowed to touch them. She always hugged them at the start and end of visiting hours. Arthur often thought about sex with her, too. They never had the chance to mess around at all. At least he and Willard had private time through the rat hole--or semi-private. Only Lies always had them on video.

Willard finished his workout and spent a few minutes stretching, letting his breathing slow to normal.

Arthur kept playing with himself. Sometimes working out turned Willard on, too, and they would stroke each other off--

"Watching again." Willard sprawled on the floor by the rat hole and gazed at Arthur. His black hair clung to his sweaty brow. Heat sparked beneath the cool look in his eyes. Arthur grinned. It had taken time to learn how to read Willard, but he was pretty good at it now.

"Whenever I can." Joker didn't mind sounding shameless. He reached through the rat hole to caress Willard's damp face. He was so handsome, with cheekbones like cut glass and a strong jaw line. Fuck, Arthur wanted to kiss him so much it nearly drove him crazy. Crazier? It didn't matter. Arthur wanted to taste his lips.

"What do you think would happen if the next time we stepped out of these rooms I kissed you?"

Willard's brow furrowed. "Sausage Breath and Nurse Julie would make our lives hell."

"Fuck them."

"That could be the all the reason they need to keep us apart. You know we're not supposed to touch each other. I'm not sure even Dr. Lies could manipulate our way out of trouble if we. . .You know."

"Can't you even say it?"

"Why?"

"Why not? Don't you want to kiss me? How about Hunter? Wouldn't it be nice to kiss her? Don't you fucking hate how every move we make is watched and controlled and--"

"Yes I hate it, but right now there's nothing we can do about it."

"I'm doing something about it. Speaking of that, it's almost time for my swimming lesson. When we get out of here, we're going to the beach.You, me, and Hunter. I'm going to swim in the ocean."

"First you'd better hope you can swim in Gotham River."

Determination and a hint of anger sparked inside Arthur. Willard didn't understand how much he'd progressed. He didn't believe in Arthur's ability, and Arthur wanted him to. "I will. You'll see."

"Mmm." Willard rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "I wish we could take showers any time we want. I'd love one right now."

"I'd love to take one with you."

Face flushed, Willard slanted his gaze toward Arthur. "I'd like that, too."

Arousal shot through Arthur. His softening cock stiffened again and he stroked himself a few times. A hungry look crossed Willard's face.

"Let me touch you," Joker said, his tone more guttural than he'd intended.

"All right." Willard shifted his position, moving upward and giving Joker access to his lower belly and groin area. He tugged up his damp shirt and pushed down his pants. He wasn't fully erect yet, but Joker would have no trouble getting him there. He placed his hand against Willard's firm belly, enjoying the feel of warm, damp skin. He slid his hand down, letting his fingers stray through the cushion of wiry hair before curling his fist around Willard's dick. Despite the slowness of Joker's movements--he generally didn't like to rush these things--he hardened fast. Maybe working out had turned him on, too, because he already hovered on the brink. 

By now Joker knew all the signs that Willard was about to come. His breathing quickened. Soft moans escaped his lips. Joker couldn't see his face right now, but Willard's eyes were probably closed. They usually closed when he was about to come. Fuck. Joker wished for the millionth time that there wasn't a fucking wall between them, so he could see all of Willard and they could roll around together, skin-to-skin. He wanted to kiss Willard breathless.

"I wish I could taste you." Joker's voice came out hoarse. His heart beat fast and with his free hand he reached down to stroke his dick. Both hands kept the same rhythm--one on himself and the other on Willard. It was awkward, especially through the damn rat hole, but it felt so good.

"I wish I could touch you back right now," Willard said breathlessly, his soft voice tremulous.

"Me too." Joker panted. He was about to come, and his dick was super-sensitive. 

"It feels so good."

"I know."

Heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor.

"Do you hear that?" Joker murmured, his breathing harsh, his dick and Willard's tight in his hands. He swirled his thumb over the tip of Willard's, smearing pre-cum over the sensitive head. Willard arched. By the tension in his body, it would take just a few more strokes to push him over the edge. Joker was nearly there, too, but he managed to talk between gasps. "I think it might be Sausage."

Those clunky footsteps were hard to miss.

"We. . .should. . .stop." Willard's breathy voice jerked.

Joker stroked faster. He wasn't about to pull back before they finished.

"Ahh!" Willard gasped and came, trying to stifle his moans of pleasure.

Joker released him and focused on finishing himself off. He came fast. The idea of possibly being caught made him even hornier. He would have liked to just sprawl there for a while, but he forced himself to his feet. His legs still a little shaky, he tumbled onto his bed. 

A moment later, the footsteps stopped outside his door. Arthur nearly winced at the sight of Sausage's face staring through the glass window.

Sausage opened the door and smirked. "Lights out, Fleck."

Arthur ignored him. Once Sausage turned off the lights and left, Arthur listened intently until he heard basically the same conversation from Willard's room.

Certain that Sausage had passed by, he dropped back to the floor and stared through the hole. A moment later, Willard faced him.

"Goodnight, Arthur." Willard reached through the hole and ran warm fingers down Arthur's cheek. It felt good. 

Why couldn't they really be together? Even better, with Hunter. The three of them could be so. . .happy. For the first time in his life, Arthur thought he could truly be happy. It had to be another joke--another dream. False hope. He'd been so done with that. Then he'd met Willard and Hunter.

"Are you all right?" Willard asked, those piercing blue eyes softer than usual. Sometimes the look in Willard's eyes could be almost frightening, but times like this revealed a side of Willard that Arthur knew few people ever saw. It was a side he kept hidden, just like Arthur had hidden Joker for most of his life.

"Yeah. I'm okay. See you in the morning."

Willard smiled faintly and nodded before going back to bed.

Arthur gazed at him for a moment, until Willard smiled again and offered him a little wave. Then Arthur climbed in bed and closed his eyes, waiting for Dr. Seil to bring him to the pool. Arthur had gotten used to his nightly swim, and part of him actually looked forward to it. He'd never imagined himself as athletic before. He'd always been a good dancer, but that had been more fun than exercise. He'd been a pretty good runner, too, but only when he ran for his life. 

Technically, he'd learned to swim to save his life, too--at least it would eventually. The idea of jumping off the Gotham Bridge again made his heart beat faster, both from fear and a little excitement. Would he live? Would he die? Would he nearly drown again? Would it hurt, or was Dr. Lies telling the truth, that by the time Arthur jumped, he'd be ready?

Arthur thought of swimming--not for his life in the dirty Gotham River, but of wading in warm, soothing water somewhere in the tropics, Willard and Hunter alongside him. He smiled. Someday, they'd visit that beach.


	34. On a Stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a storm, Arthur, Hunter, and Sausage get trapped in an elevator. Sausage loses consciousness and Arthur loses his virginity.

Heavy rain pelted Gotham, drenching buildings and residents hurrying down sidewalks or standing at bus stops, their heads bowed.

Not Hunter, though. She had always liked the rain. Walking tall, she enjoyed the cool droplets splashing her face. Rain dripped off the hood of her black slicker. In the distance, Arkham loomed, enormous and impenetrable. Thunder shook Hunter to her bones, and the flash of lightning inspired her to quicken her pace. Due to the storm, darkness had fallen over the city even earlier than usual. 

She entered Arkham, leaving the scent of wet asphalt for the familiar smell of cleaning fluid and cold yet somehow stale air. Shoving down her hood, she strode toward the elevators, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the floor. While waiting, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. It was almost visiting hours. She could hardly wait to see Arthur and Willard. It was strange that because of them, arriving at Arkham was more like coming home than going to her lonely apartment every night. Usually after work, people went home to their families, but Hunter's family was here. She felt safer and more secure in Arkham than at her place of residence.

The elevator door opened and a little jolt of surprise and pleasure made her heartbeat quicken and her belly tighten. Arthur, his hands bound in front of him, smiled at her, his green eyes widening. Sausage stood beside him, his legs spread in a tough-guy stance, his expression more like that of an arresting officer than a hospital orderly.

"Hey, Hunter." Arthur's smile broadened even more. Their gazes locked. 

"Arthur, what are you doing here?"

He tossed her a playful look and batted his long, dark lashes. "I live here, remember?"

"She means what are you doing in the elevator, genius." Sausage smirked.

Arthur's easy smile turned rigid and he shot a look of annoyance at Sausage.

Stepping into the elevator, Hunter glanced at the orderly. "We don't need a translator, Sam."

"No." Sausage curled his lip. "No, you definitely speak the language of crazies."

The door slid shut and Hunter nearly gagged. It took her a moment to adjust to the stench of Sausage's breath that lingered on the air in the elevator, and it was even a fairly large one, able to comfortably fit a gurney and several people. They were the only ones riding it now.

"I had to see the dentist," Arthur explained, his smile faint but warm again, now that it was directed back at Hunter. "I needed a filling. After all, what's Joker without a nice smile?"

Hunter's stomach clenched. Arthur and Joker were still one. Several months into Dr. Lies's plan, and it was clear that Arthur wouldn't--more like couldn't--give up Joker. It was like asking him to cut out part of his soul. Impossible. 

Since the doctor's insane plan had gone into action several months ago, Arthur had changed. Subtle differences at first. Though still too thin, he was closer to the low end of his healthy weight. Eating better and swimming lessons had somewhat thickened his wiry muscles. He was even more limber and graceful than before, and definitely stronger. Hunter felt it when she hugged him.

It was nice to have that privilege--to hug Arthur and Willard, touch them and be touched when the rules forbade it, but in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't enough. She craved more, and by the way they looked at her, she knew they did, too. Sometimes at night she'd dream about them, kissing them. Touching them. She felt their hands and lips on her body, and when she woke, wet and aroused, she usually had to finish herself off.

She also realized what society would think about her feelings for them, so she tried not to dwell on it. What the fuck had society ever done for them?

Sausage interrupted her thoughts with a snort of humorless laughter. "Nice smile? You're out of your mind, Fleck, but we already know that, don't we?"

"Maybe _you_ should try seeing the dentist so he can do something about that breath." Joker glanced at Sausage through lowered lashes. 

Anger flashed across Sausage's face. "You little--"

The elevator jolted so hard that they all stumbled against the walls. The light snapped out.

"Fucking great," Sausage muttered.

Hunter reached into her bag and pulled out a flashlight. In its subtle light, Sausage reached for the phone to make an emergency call. He slammed it back to the wall. "Fuck! The whole building must be out of power."

Resting his bony shoulders against the wall, Joker grinned, his eyes sparkling even in the dimness "You want to hear a joke?"

"No, Fleck, I don't want to hear any fucking jokes!"

"What do you get--"

"I said shut up!"

"When you cross a stuck elevator with an orderly with dragon breath?"

Sausage's thick hands shot out and pinned Arthur hard against the wall. "I said shut up! We're fucking trapped!"

"Do you have elevator phobia?" Arthur laughed. "I guess sometimes we really do get what we deserve. Hey, Sausage, wouldn't it be funny if the cable snapped, too?"

"Stop it!" Sausage bellowed in Arthur's face.

"Hey, back off him, Sam." Hunter grasped Sausage's arm.

"You back off!" He shoved Hunter so hard that she crashed into the corner of the elevator. 

Luckily she didn't hit her head or anything, which is more than she could say for Sausage. No sooner had he touched her than Arthur lunged at him. He was stronger than he looked, and knocked Sausage against the wall.

"You're dead, you little--"

Arthur smashed his forehead into Sausage's face. The orderly's head cracked against the wall. He slumped, unconscious, to the floor.

Her stomach clenched, Hunter stared at Arthur who stood, breathing fast, his smile long gone, replaced by an expression of cold rage. Other than that one time on TV, she had never seen him in face paint, but she could almost see it now--Joker. Vicious. Fearless. Dominant. It was so fucking sexy.

"Arthur?" She turned the flashlight to his face.

His gaze snapped in her direction. Green eyes glittered, and he grinned. "Hey, Hunter. He really needed to shut up."

"Yeah." She smiled back. "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome." He stepped toward her and a twinge of excitement darted through her. He pressed so close that his lean chest nearly touched her breasts and when he spoke, his warm breath tickled her lips. "Nobody touches my family." 

Before she could respond, he kissed her. It was even better than she'd imagined. Firm yet soft lips pressed against hers. They were warm and slightly moist. Aggressive but tender, he deepened the kiss. Closing her eyes, Hunter slid her arms around his neck, wanting to hold him even closer, but his bound hands made it impossible.

When the kiss broke, she squeezed away from him and knelt by Sausage. "He must have a key to those things."

"Yeah. I think they're hanging from his back pocket. Arthur used his leg to push Sausage onto his side. Yes, the keys were there. Hunter took them and tried each of them until she found the one that freed Arthur from his restraints. Then she put the restraints on Sausage. She and Arthur pushed him aside.

Hunter tried the phone again, but it was still dead.

"Damn it." She put it back. "I guess we're stuck here until the power comes on."

Arthur stepped close again and grinned. "That's not so bad."

Gazing into his eyes, she smiled back. "No, I guess not. Too bad Sausage is here, though."

"Fuck him."

"I'd rather not."

Joker laughed. Taking her face in his cold hands, he kissed her again. His hands warmed against her skin, and his long lashes tickled her. 

Closing her eyes, Hunter wrapped her arms around him, dropping the flashlight. She slid her hands over his shoulders and up his neck. Burying her fingers in his thick, wavy hair, she relished its softness. She'd dreamed about this--kissing and groping Arthur, feeling his hands on her, but she hadn't imagined it happening until they were finally free of Arkham. 

A faint echo of thunder from the raging storm reached them even in the elevator, a backdrop to the rasp of their excited breathing and soft moans of pleasure.

"Arthur." She whispered against his lips when he broke their kiss to nuzzle her neck. It tickled, and it felt so good. She slid her hands under his loose hospital shirt and caressed his back, feeling every sharp bone and hard muscle. His skin was warm, and in places ridges of old scars teased her fingertips. Part of her wanted to know how he got every scar, while another part didn't want to think about Arthur being hurt in any way. He didn't deserve the life he'd been thrust into. Arthur could be so sweet and gentle. Joker was, too, but he had bite for sure. 

Speaking of bite, Hunter giggled and squirmed as he nibbled her ear. His hot, wet tongue circled it, tickling and arousing her at the same time. He thrust his pelvis against her, his stiff cock pressed between them. Fresh desire welled in her. Heat pooled in her lower belly. She tingled and throbbed. Rubbing against Arthur, she tried to satisfy that frustrating ache between her legs. She wanted him to fuck her right there against the wall, but it would be so wrong. Yet no one had to know.

Arthur must have thought the same thing. He parted her raincoat and rested a hand on her hip. He paused a moment and gazed into her eyes. Though they didn't speak, a question passed between them. The answer was just as silent and just as unanimous. Arthur slid his hand under her sweater. Her stomach clenched and unclenched while he stroked her, his palm warm and rough against her belly. Both his hands were under her sweater now, stroking her ribs and around to her back where he deftly unfastened her bra. His fingers left a feathery trail to her belly again. Beneath her loosened bra, he cupped her breasts.

"Oh, Arthur, that feels so good," she whispered in his ear. She kissed the side of his neck and paused a moment, her mouth resting against the warm skin, feeling his pulse throb fast and hard against her lips. She kissed his neck again and licked it. She writhed against him while he continued fondling her breasts and nuzzling her hair. His thumbs swept her tight nipples, sending ripples of pleasure through her.

"You feel so good," he said. He tugged a hand from beneath her sweater and cupped her face. Blazing green eyes stared into hers. "I want more. I want you, Hunter."

"I'm right here."

His eyes widened a bit, and then he smiled--Joker's big grin. He kissed her harder than before, took her bottom lip between his teeth and nipped it gently before rolling his tongue over it. Her tongue reached for his and they swirled together in a warm, wet dance.

Arthur unzipped Hunter's pants and palmed her through her panties before dipping his hand past the waistband.

"I've never done this before." He breathed. "I daydreamed about it a lot."

"This isn't a daydream." She stroked his hair, brushing back brown curls that tumbled over his forehead.

His smile went huge. "I know." His mouth devoured hers while his long, slim fingers explored her soft, sensitive flesh and slipped inside where she was so warm and wet.

While he fondled her, Hunter palmed his crotch. He was rock hard now, but when she reached into his pants and curled her fist around him, he got even harder. Groaning, Arthur pressed his forehead against hers. Then he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. He pushed down his pants and kicked them off. 

Hunter stepped out of her shoes and slid her pants down, too, glancing briefly at Sausage. What if he woke up when they were--

"Oh, Arthur!" Hunter gasped, falling back against the elevator wall and grasping his bony shoulders. She only had one foot out of her pants, but Arthur didn't care. He could reach everything he needed to. Kneeling in front of her, he lapped her with hungry strokes, his lips teasing her. What the fuck? She should know by now that Arthur was full of surprises. He licked and sucked, groaning and chuckling intermittently. If he kept this up, she would come for sure, but apparently that's what he was going for. 

Just when she hovered on the brink, he stood swiftly, grasped her wrists and pinned them to the wall. He pushed into her, and by now she was so wet and ready that it didn't matter that his motions were clumsy and excited. 

"Oh fuck." He panted into her mouth.

"Just keep going." She clasped handfuls of his hair and met his erratic thrusts. He trembled, his breathing ragged. If he could hold out just another second or two. Waves of throbbing pleasure broke over Hunter. She moaned and clung to him hard, panting his name over and over.

Arthur gave a guttural moan when he came, exploding inside her, his slim, hard body pinning her to the elevator wall. They both slid down it, their bare legs tangled, their harsh breath mingling.

"That was real." Arthur's voice was soft, almost disbelieving.

Enveloped by his warmth and scent, she smiled and squeezed his narrow waist. "It sure was."

"It was even better than I imagined it would be. How was it for you?"

She grinned. "It was great."

"It was in an elevator at Arkham."

"It's not about where. It's about who."

"Willard wouldn't do it in an elevator."

"That's okay."

"It was my first time. Where was your first time?" He gazed at her with big, guileless eyes. It was hard to believe this was the same guy who knocked out Sausage and fucked her against the wall.

"In the back of a stripped Chevy in a junkyard that belonged to the guy's dad. I was in high school. It was a dumb thing to do. I didn't even like him that much, but I wasn't popular with the guys--at least not in that way--and I wanted to see what it was like."

She couldn't quite read his expression. "I'd always wanted my first time to be with someone I care about. You and Willard are the only ones who've ever cared back."

His words touched her, and she smiled, caressing his face. "It's better when you care."

"I'm better than your other times?"

"There haven't been many other times, but yes, this was way better."

His green eyes gleamed, and he dipped his head closer for a kiss.

"Sam? Arthur? Are you down there?" Nurse Doreen bellowed from above.

Arthur gave a little laugh and shook his head. "Shit."

Hunter held his gaze and smiled before she called, "Yeah! We're down here. It's Hunter, Arthur, and Saus. . .I mean Sam. He's been hurt and is unconscious."

"Arthur is unconscious?"

"No, Sausage Breath!" Arthur shouted before Hunter could reply.

"Arthur, don't call him that," Hunter whispered, laughing softly, pulling up her pants, and sliding into her shoes.

"Why not?" he whispered back.

"What happened?" That was Dr. Seil's voice.

"He hit his head when the elevator jammed," Joker yelled. 

Hunter stared at him in question. 

"What?" Joker whispered, shrugging. "I'm not going to say _I_ did it. And get the restraints off him. If anyone sees him tied up, they'll know we're lying."

"He'll know." Still, Hunter removed the restraints.

"It's his word against ours, right?" Arthur held out his wrists and nodded toward them. "Go ahead. It's okay, Hunter."

She felt a little sick binding Arthur's hands again. She fastened the restraints on his bony wrists, noting even they were a little thicker now. The muscles in his arms had become quite well-developed from all that swimming.

"They're working on getting the power back up," Dr. Seil shouted. "It shouldn't be too long."

"Too bad." Arthur chuckled, pulled his pants on, and wrinkled his nose. "Except for the smell. It's a little better now that he's unconscious and his mouth is shut."

At that moment, Sausage groaned and started to wake.

"Shit," Arthur muttered.

"What the. . ." Sausage opened his eyes and reached for his head. "Fuck. You damn near killed me, Fleck."

"Me?" Joker stared with wide, innocent eyes. "I didn't do anything. The elevator jolted and you keeled over."

Sausage curled his lip and rose slowly, wincing. "That's bullshit, Fleck. You're a liar."

"Why does that sound so familiar?" Joker mused, looking far-off for a moment. "Oh yeah. Hoyt. You sound like my old boss."

"Sounds like he had you figured out. You're going to be in trouble for this."

"For what?" Hunter stared coolly at Sausage. "Like he said, you keeled over."

"Then why does my face and the back of my head hurt? This nut-job head-butted me!"

"You fell forward into the wall and then hit the floor," Hunter said. "Right, Arthur?"

"Yeah. You must have been really scared of the elevator getting jammed."

"Fuck! We're still jammed!" Sausage looked around, panicked.

"Is that Sam?" Dr. Seil called.

"It's me!" Sausage bellowed. "Get us out of here! I can't take this!"

"Remain calm," Dr. Seil told him. "You have a patient down there to take care of."

"Oh, I'm fine, Dr. Seil," Arthur said. "Sausage is all worked up though. You better get us out of here fast, or he might be checking into the room next to mine."

Hunter stifled laughter.

"You think this is funny?" Sausage glared at her.

"No, Sam. It's not funny at all that the patient is keeping his cool and the orderly is freaking out."

"You and you are going to get payback one of these days." Sausage pointed in Hunter's face and then in Arthur's. 

"Trapped in this elevator with you and your breath is payback enough," Joker quipped.

Sausage's face reddened and his chest heaved. He looked ready to explode.

"Arthur, maybe we should tone it down a little. We're stuck here, after all," Hunter said, more for their sake than for Sausage's.

Joker brightened. "We could play games to pass the time. How about charades? I love charades."

"Why me?" Sausage moaned, shaking his head and covering his face with his hands. "Why, why me?"

Joker turned to Hunter, raised his eyebrows, and grinned. 

Words couldn't describe how much she loved Arthur Fleck.


	35. Yeti Versus the Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter and Arthur confess to Willard. During breakfast, Yeti attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this one so late! It's the first snow storm of the year and we lost power for a bit.

Muted sounds of thunder and rain penetrated Arkham's thick walls. Willard smiled slightly, thinking about Aristotle and his friends moving swiftly through the walls. If only he, Arthur, and Hunter could somehow join them there. Then they could escape Arkham without assistance from Only Lies.

Working with the mad doctor still unsettled Willard. Someday, the trio would regret bargaining with him.

At the moment, they sat at a table in the far corner of the rec room. When they'd lost power, Willard had been certain visiting hours would be cancelled, but the outage hadn't lasted long, and now they sat among other patients and visitors.

Arthur and Hunter kept glancing at each other. While Hunter appeared fairly normal, there was something different about Arthur, or rather Joker. He was definitely more Joker than Arthur right now. His green eyes gleamed and he gazed at Hunter, moistening his lips with his tongue.

"What's going on?" Willard asked softly.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, his gaze darting to Willard

"I mean, there's something the two of you aren't telling me."

"How does he know?" Arthur's eyes widened a bit. "Do I look different or something?"

"You look like a kid with your hand in the cookie jar." Hunter narrowed her eyes, but her expression was more playful than chastising.

Willard's stomach clenched. A feeling of dread built inside him. He never should have trusted them. What were they hiding? Had Only Lies told them something or for some reason decided to exclude him from their plan? Maybe Hunter and Arthur would abandon Willard. Humans couldn't be trusted, and he'd always known that.

Hunter placed a hand on Willard's knee. "Are you okay?"

"That depends." Willard jerked away from her. 

She pulled back, knitting her brow.

"We did it in the elevator," Arthur whispered close to Willard's ear. "Wish you could have been there, too, but I don't think you'd do it in an elevator."

Relief broke over Willard. That's all. They'd made the most of being trapped in an elevator.

"How about you?" Willard lowered his gaze before shifting it to Hunter. "Do you wish I could have been there?"

She looked a little embarrassed, but at the same time unapologetic. It was an attractive combination. "It would have been fun. I mean. . .I think it would have been fun. Do you?"

Willard leaned back in his chair, folded his hands on his lap, and lowered his gaze to them. He considered her question. Elevators evoked disturbing memories. Mr. Martin had trapped Willard in an elevator once. There he had mocked him in front of his co-workers. Willard had been both mortified and livid. Later in that same elevator and with the help of his twitchy-nosed minions, he had sent Mr. Martin to his death.

Now he thought about Hunter and Arthur copulating in an elevator with Sausage Breath sprawled unconscious nearby.

Finally he looked up and glanced from Hunter to Arthur. "I'd like to be with the two of you, but not in an elevator with Sam."

Joker flashed a wide grin at Hunter. "Told ya."

She smiled. "I don't blame you, Willard. It was kind of spontaneous."

"Yeah. Wasn't it beautiful?" Joker hummed softly.

"It was, actually," Hunter admitted.

"I've thought about sex with the two of you," Willard said. "But I won't do it with you in particular, Hunter, until I'm out of here."

"But you'll fool around with me through the rat hole?" Joker smirked.

Annoyed, Willard glanced at him sharply. "You're being crude again, Arthur."

"No, I'm just being honest. I'll take either of you wherever and whenever I can get you."

"And apparently Hunter feels the same way." Willard wasn't quite sure why he was upset. It was understood that they were together--the three of them, or four, including Aristotle. Of course, they weren't interested in sex with Aristotle. 

Arthur was right, that he and Willard satisfied each other's needs regularly through the rat hole, but when Willard slept with them--an act of penetration and the utmost intimacy--he didn't want it to be in a mental hospital or on an elevator, and he definitely didn't want it to be on camera for Only Lies's sick pleasure.

"I hope you at least took the appropriate precautions," Willard continued. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should stop pointing out everything that was wrong with Arthur and Hunter having sex in an elevator, but he couldn't control himself.

Hunter met Willard's gaze. She looked offended. 

That hadn't been his intention, but maybe in his annoyance he'd insulted her. He tried to think before he spoke, but when he lost his temper, he wasn't always in control. He'd been working on it, though. He didn't want a repeat of what happened with Ben. Not ever.

Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow. "Precautions? You mean. . ." His grin faded and he stared at Hunter with wide eyes. "We might have made a baby."

Willard leveled a weighty stare at him. "And you just considered that now?"

A myriad of emotions crossed Arthur's face. His confusion was almost tangible, and Willard felt a bit guilty about ruining such a wonderful experience for Arthur. 

"I can't have a baby. I'm in Arkham," Arthur murmured.

Willard was about to say it was a fine time to think about it, but Hunter spoke first.

"Don't worry, Arthur. I've been on the pill for years to regulate my periods. We're okay. And as for you, Willard, and how I feel about doing it in an elevator or anywhere else, I want to be intimate when it's right for all of us. If Arthur and I were okay in the elevator, then it's our business. If you want to wait until we're out of Arkham, that's fine, too. For me it's about respect for each other and our feelings."

Willard's face heated and he lowered his gaze again. Guilt tightened his chest. "You're right. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Don't worry about it," she said coolly.

But he did. He was always so certain that she and Arthur were going to turn on him. It happened before. He remembered being trapped in the house with Ben and the others. He'd reached out to Cathryn and called for her to help him, but she'd looked at him with horror on her lovely face. She'd rejected him, and part of him didn't blame her. He'd been disloyal, as well, to the rats who had once obeyed and trusted him.

Maybe he didn't deserve Arthur and Hunter's affection after all.

"Willard." She leaned closer to him and smiled. "Really, don't worry about it."

"Sometimes it's still hard for me," he murmured.

"Sometimes it's hard for me, too," Arthur said.

"And me," Hunter admitted.

Willard hesitantly reached for her hand, certain she'd pull away just to repay him for doing the same moments ago. She didn't. Instead her fingers tightened around his and she smiled again.

Visiting hours ended all too quickly, and soon he and Arthur were in their rooms for the night, and Hunter was back to work. As usual, when Only Lies took Arthur for his swimming lesson, Willard spent time with Aristotle and his friends. By now, they understood many commands. If only he could train with them in freer surroundings. He and Hunter had already planned for that. If they had made a deal with the devil, they had better make the most of it. The trio agreed that Willard's rats were probably their strongest weapon against Only Lies. With careful planning and Hunter's help on the outside, they could have a workable backup plan if--more likely when--Only Lies turned on them.

When Arthur returned from the pool, he and Willard talked a bit before bed. Hunter stopped by to check on them a few hours later. She and Willard waved to each other through the glass window on his door, and then he drifted to sleep.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Arthur and Willard shared a table, as usual. Willard studied Arthur who sat across from him, slowly but steadily consuming oatmeal. At least he was eating better. His unkempt hair, damp from his morning shower, tumbled across his forehead. His gaze cast down to his bowl, long eyelashes creating shadows against his angular face. Even after four months, Willard hadn't grown tired of looking at him and talking to him. Yes, Arthur still riled him at times, but strangely, their little spats often aroused him. Arthur was probably the most interesting person Willard had ever met, other than Hunter. They each sparked a different kind of fascination for him. Arthur was something wild, an intoxicating combination of dangerous and childlike. Hunter was an equal. She understood Willard and respected his thoughts. At first, Willard had rebelled against his feelings for them. Now he couldn't imagine life without them.

Arthur looked up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "What?"

Willard could lose himself in those big, green eyes. He stared back at Arthur. "Nothing. I was just thinking about you and Hunter."

"Are you still upset about the elevator?"

"I was never upset about it."

"You were a little."

A faint smile tugged at Willard's lips. "Just a little, at first, but I understand. I'm not upset anymore."

"Good." Arthur grinned, but it faded quickly when he looked down at his half-full bowl. With a sigh of resignation, he continued eating. Most of the time it was still a chore to him. Arthur probably wouldn't ever have much of an appetite.

Willard ate his oatmeal, too. This morning it tasted a little better than usual. At least it was hot instead of lukewarm, and it wasn't runny. He was actually enjoying it.

Willard's face smashed into the bowl. A heavy hand held his head down. He struggled, desperate to breathe, but oatmeal filled his nose and mouth. He fought, his pulse pounding in his ears. Still, he heard Arthur screaming.

"Get the fuck off him!" There was a crash and Willard was free. Choking and gasping, he swiped hot, sticky cereal from his eyes and nose.

Arthur smashed his tray across Yeti's face. The giant rammed his fist into Arthurs nose with a sickening crunch, knocking him to the floor.

"You little fucker!" Yeti stomped toward Arthur who, despite blood gushing from his nose, snapped his foot between Yeti's legs. Yeti grunted and doubled over, but dropped onto Arthur, straddling him, a hand locked around Arthur's thin neck.

Willard lunged at Yeti who rammed his elbow backward into Willard's face. Willard's vision dimmed and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Out of nowhere, Hunter jumping on Yeti's back, her slender arms squeezing his neck in a choke hold. 

Then everything went black.

* * *

"Willard?" Hunter's said softly. A cool hand stroked his cheek. 

A pounding headache made opening his eyes difficult, but he finally managed and found himself gazing into her worried face.

"Nurse! He's awake," Hunter called, making Willard wince. She turned back to him. "She's taking her sweet time. How are you feeling?"

"I have a vicious headache."

Her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. I was so worried about you." She loomed closer and pressed her soft lips to his forehead. She smelled like soap and cleaning fluid.

"Are you okay? I saw you jump on Yeti." Willard wasn't sure if he reached for her first or if she reached for him, but their fingers entwined. Her slender hand felt good in his. If anything happened to her or Arthur. . ."How is Arthur? It looked like he got hurt."

"Yeti rolled over on me and damn near crushed me. Arthur almost ripped his face off and they got into a huge fight. Dr. Seil and a couple of orderlies broke them up. Arthur was bloodied up. Broken nose. Black eyes. Bruises on his neck from that ape trying to strangle him. He can hardly talk."

Willard cringed. Poor Arthur.

"I checked on him a little while ago- he's just down the hall-- but he told me to make sure you're okay. He's really worried."

Willard's head pounded, but it was a little better than when he first woke. He raised his free hand to his temple and massaged it. "What were you even doing in the cafeteria? Shouldn't you be off duty?"

"I wanted to say goodbye to you guys before I left for my apartment."

The nurse approached to examine Willard. She cast a disapproving look at their entwined fingers before Hunter stepped back.

"Is he all right?" Hunter asked.

"Seems to be," the nurse said coolly. She was almost as bad as Nurse Julie. More and more, Willard appreciated Nurse Doreen.

"I'm going to let Arthur know you're awake," Hunter said.

"You won't be able to do that." The nurse glanced at her before focusing on taking Willard's vitals. "He's in solitary."

"What?" Hunter looked as angry as Willard felt. "Why? He didn't start that fight."

"No, but as usual, he was happy to finish it."

Willard and Hunter exchanged glances.

"Don't worry," Hunter told him. "I'm going to talk to Dr. Seil."

"Good luck with that." The nurse smirked. "He's the one who ordered Fleck into solitary."

Willard clenched his teeth. Anger made his head throb even more. As if sensing that he teetered on the edge of his self-control, Hunter rested a comforting hand on his calf. "Just relax, Willard. I'm sure Arthur is okay, and I'm still going to talk to Dr. Seil." Hunter tossed an annoyed look at the nurse who ignored it.

With a faint smile that Willard knew she hoped was reassuring, Hunter left.

"You're doing all right, Stiles," the nurse said. "We're going to keep you here for a little longer, though."

"But I'm fine."

"We just need to monitor you since you've had a head injury."

"But--"

"That's how it is, Stiles. Just lie back and get comfortable."

Willard didn't have a choice. If he protested, they might restrain him, and he didn't want that. Yet how could he relax when Arthur was in solitary, all because he'd tried to protect Willard from Yeti?

What had incited Yeti? Ever since returning to their unit, he'd avoided Arthur, and therefore Willard, since he and Arthur were always together. Crazy as it seemed, Yeti was a little afraid of Arthur. What had happened today that made him randomly attack Willard? They might never find out.


	36. Oh, Rats!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Yeti's attack, Lony meets with the trio. Sausage's car is destroyed, but is it a random act, or an act of revenge?

Lony was frustrated and furious, and he didn't handle those emotions well--at least not internally. 

Yeti had injured Arthur again this morning, and this time it interfered with Lony's training. Arthur had been progressing well with his swimming lessons, and his overall health had improved. He'd even gained some weight. Though his injuries weren't serious, it would take a few days for him to recover. Even more concerning, he was still in danger from other patients. Since their last fight, Yeti had avoided Arthur. Although this time Yeti's target had been Willard, Lony sensed that it hadn't been a random attack. He intended to get to the bottom of it.

He strode down the hospital corridor, his thoughts on Arthur and his plan.

"Dr. Seil! Dr. Seil!"

He paused and turned toward Hunter. "What is it?"

"Why is Arthur in solitary? The fight wasn't his fault."

The last thing he needed was her interference. This wasn't the day to aggravate him further. He drew a breath and collected his thoughts. "No one is blaming Arthur. Did you consider that putting him in isolation is a good way to keep him safe?" That was just a partial truth. Lony wanted Arthur to remember who was in charge, that he owed Lony. They had a deal, and Arthur needed to keep his end of the bargain. Brawls with other patients put him, and therefore their plan, in danger. 

Hunter stared at him, her brow furrowed. "How long will he have to stay there?"

"Until I say he can go."

"Can I see him?"

"Hunter, you've worked here long enough to understand what isolation means."

"That's when it's used for control issues. You just told me that you put Arthur there to keep him safe."

"Still, we must abide by hospital rules, mustn't we?"

She curled her lip. "You only seem to abide by the rules when it suits you."

"And you're developing quite the attitude for a housekeeper. You do realize I can prevent you from seeing Arthur and Willard, that I can even have you fired. Of course I wouldn't take such drastic measures unless you forced me to it by endangering them. However there are some things I can't protect you from. Today you attempted to restrain a patient in a way that's against hospital rules--"

"That patient nearly killed the three of us." Hunter glared.

"I know, and thankfully no one has made a complaint against you. Remember, Hunter, our main concern is Arthur and Willard. Right now they need all the help they can get. They've been doing well, and you've been a big part of their improvement. In about two months, Willard will be able to request a review for conditional release. If everything continues to go well, I can guarantee he'll get it, and I will take personal responsibility for him. The renovations on Willard's house are almost complete. We'll be ready to move in by the time he's released."

He knew she wasn't comfortable with the idea of moving into the same house as Lony, but she was willing to do it for Willard's sake.

"I know the plan," Hunter said. "Right now I just want to know if Arthur is all right."

"He's fine. Arthur's wellbeing is of the utmost importance to me." He glanced at his watch. "My time is limited, Hunter, and you should have gone home hours ago."

"I wasn't going anywhere until I knew Arthur and Willard were okay."

It was both amusing and revolting how protective she was of Willard and Arthur. To them she was every female role merged into one--mother, sister, lover, friend. What they were to her still mystified him. 

"Understandable. You know they're safe now, so I suggest you go home and get some rest."

She must have realized that Lony wasn't about to change his mind and let her see Arthur. If they were going to fuck with his plan, then they would accept the consequences. Besides, it was fun to watch them squirm. Few things entertained him as much as toying with people and their loved ones.

Hunter didn't respond with words. She simply cast him a scathing look, turned, and stalked off.

Lony chuckled and continued to his office.

After several tedious sessions and even more tedious paperwork, Lony paid Arthur a visit. 

When he arrived at the isolation room, he found Sausage Breath checking up on Arthur through the window in his cell door. The orderly's grin was nothing short of evil. Under different circumstances, Lony would have found the situation funny. Since it affected his plans, he failed to be amused by it. 

Lony cleared his throat loudly, and Sausage Breath spun, his smile fading.

"Dr. Seil. I'm just making sure Fleck is okay."

"You can go now, Sam."

"Yes, sir." Sausage Breath stalked off.

Lony stared after him. Sam had been there when Yeti had attacked. When questioned about whether he had noticed what started the brawl, he had claimed ignorance, but he'd lied. Lony had always sensed lies, and that skill had little to do with training.

After glancing in the window, Lony entered the isolation room.

"Hello, Arthur." Lony smiled. "Are we calm now?"

Though almost swollen shut within bruised flesh, Joker's eyes practically glowed with rage, and his face twitched in a snarl. "What do you think?" he rasped through split lips. The bruises around his thin neck looked painful, as did his swollen nose. "Why the fuck am I here? Yeti attacked us. Did you expect me to sit there and take it like a good little boy?"

Arthur. Arthur. ARTHUR! Arthur was not Joker, yet when he looked and talked like this, it was so hard to remember that.

"Of course not, Arthur. You did the right thing, defending yourself."

"Then why am I here?" Jok-- _Arthur's_ eyes looked like they might burn through his skull, he was so furious.

"This is to protect you."

"Protect me?" Arthur tried to laugh, but due to the damage to his throat, he could scarcely talk, let alone laugh. "From Yeti? How is he, by the way? Does he have any teeth left?"

"A few, but Yeti isn't the real problem. Until I know exactly what happened this morning, I don't think you'll be safe mixing with the other patients."

"Since when has anything ever been safe around here?"

"Trust me, Arthur."

Arthur looked at him as if to say he'd never trusted him. Lony didn't care, as long as he continued to obey.

"Isolation will keep you safe until I figure out what's going on, if anything. It's also a reminder that you need to take care of yourself and stay out of trouble. Remember our goal? To get you well and conditionally released into my custody? I'm going to help you get everything you want, Arthur, but you need to pay attention to what I tell you and stay serious about your goals."

Arthur was scarcely controlling his rage. That was obvious by his glittering eyes and huge, rigid grin that made his split lips bleed again. He was breathtakingly beautiful like this--so. . .Joker. 

"If you were out of that straightjacket, you'd be all over me right now, wouldn't you?" Lony smiled. "You want to hurt me, don't you?"

"Of course not Dr. Seil. Why would I want to hurt you?"

Lony stepped closer to Arthur who scooted back until he hit the padded wall. He stood, breathing quickly, his hateful gaze never leaving Lony. Smiling faintly, Lony reached out and ran a hand through Arthur's disheveled hair. It was much like his own. Thick. Wavy. Lony had more gray in his, though, but it wouldn't matter. Green dye would take care of that. 

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked. Underlying fear shone in his eyes. Good.

Lony abruptly fisted a handful of Arthur's hair, jerked his head back and whispered in his ear, "I'm doing all this for your own good, Arthur. Don't fuck it up. Remember, Willard and Hunter will be with me soon. They're counting on you, and so am I."

He released Arthur and wiped his hand on his jacket. Drawing a calming breath, Lony smiled again. "I'll get you out of here as soon as I know it's safe. You might feel abandoned, but I promise this--" He pointed around the isolation room, "won't be forever. Trust me, Arthur. I haven't failed you yet, have I?"

Arthur didn't reply, but the rage was back in his eyes, the fear completely buried again. He was calmer this time, and Lony took it as a good sign.

"I'll send an orderly. Not Sam. You won't see him again while you're in here. We'll get your face washed. Get all that blood off. If you need food, water, a bathroom break, we'll let you have it. I suggest you take this time to think about what I've said. You've already come such a long way, Arthur. I know you have what it takes to follow through with our plan."

Lony left Arthur glaring after him.

After a brief stop at his office, Lony went to visit Willard. The rat man was back in his unit. Lony found him seated alone at a table in the rec room, staring into space. It wasn't a blank look in his eyes, however, but one of deep thought.

"Hello, Willard. How are you feeling?" Lony asked.

Willard's piercing blue gaze darted toward Lony. "Better, thank you." Polite. Willard was almost always polite, even with those he hated.

"We missed our session this morning. Would you like to talk now?"

Lony expected Willard to refuse, but after a moment's hesitation, Willard said, "Yes. There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Of course. We can go to my office, if you like."

Willard glanced around, and then he nodded slightly. "Y. . .yes. I think that would be best."

This was unusual behavior for Stiles, and it piqued Lony's interest.

Lony escorted Willard to his office, and offered him a chair in the sitting area. Willard perched on the leather chair, his posture straight and his hands clasped tightly on his lap.

Settling into another chair, Lony leaned back, outwardly relaxed, and waited patiently for Willard to begin.

"I. . .it's not me I want to talk about. It's about what happened this morning with Yeti. I think someone incited him to attack me."

Lony drew a breath and studied Willard. This didn't surprise Lony. Still, he needed to carefully consider anything Stiles had to say. After all, he was in Arkham.

"I know you probably don't believe me, or that you think I'm paranoid or delusional, but think about it. Yeti has avoided Arthur since their last fight. Also, there was a witness. Someone overheard a particular orderly tell Yeti that I was plotting to turn Arthur against him, and that if he didn't put a stop to it, Arthur would kill him as soon as he had the chance."

"Who's the orderly?" Lony asked, although he already guessed the answer.

Willard held his gaze. "Sam."

"And the witness?"

Again Willard hesitated. He didn't blame him. After all, the patients weren't considered a reliable source. "Amanda."

Ah. Sweet little Amanda who had stabbed her brother. Still, she had been stable for quite a while, and was currently one of the easier to handle patients. Lony was apt to believe her, especially regarding Sausage Breath. Everyone knew what a hateful bastard he was, and stupid. That was his main fault. He suffered from an acute case of stupidity.

"Thank you for telling me, Willard."

"Will you do something about it?"

"I'm taking what you said seriously, and I'll follow the appropriate measures. You know that your safety and Arthur's is of the utmost importance to me."

"Yes." Willard stared at him hard. "I imagine it would be, for now."

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me or talk about?"

"How long will Arthur be in isolation?"

"For as long as it takes to ensure his safety and the safety of others around him."

"It wasn't Arthur's fault."

"If there's nothing else, we'll walk back to the rec room."

"I can find my own way."

Lony grinned. "Nice try, Willard, but at the moment I'm responsible for you. Let's go."

After leaving Willard in the rec room, Lony sought out the video log of the cafeteria from that morning. As Willard had reported, Sausage approached Yeti and clearly said something that upset him before the fight broke out. Amanda had been lurking nearby. Lony resisted the urge to kick the television in rage.

Willard's words and the video log from that morning remained on Lony's mind for the rest of the day and into the night. At home, he paced and mulled over the best way to handle the problem with Sausage Breath. His nightmares were plagued by visions of Joker locked in combat with Yeti, Sausage Breath, Thomas Wayne, and an endless stream of faces from the past--some blurred, others bloody or rotting.

Lony woke with a pounding headache and a tight ball of rage in his gut.

By the time he got to work, he still hadn't completely detached from his anger and anxiety, but no sooner had he entered the parking garage than something happened that put a genuine smile on his face.

A security guard, Nurse Doreen, and Sausage Breath stood by a black Camaro with the doors flung open. Even from a distance, Lony heard Sausage raging about damage to his car.

Lony approached. Feigning concern, he asked, "What's going on here?"

"What's going on? Somehow that fruitloop Stiles got to my car. Look at it! It's destroyed." Sausage pointed at the vehicle. Veins popped in his temples and neck and his moustache twitched above his snarling lips. 

Lony peered into the car. Rodent feces scattered over what was left of the chewed seats and floor mats. 

"You think Willard Stiles is responsible for this?" Lony knitted his eyebrows and looked sympathetically at Sausage.

"I know it, damn it!" Sausage shouted and slammed a fist on the roof of the car.

"He did this from a hospital room?" Lony pressed. "I understand you're upset--"

"Upset? My entire life savings went on the down payment for this car. No. This isn't just a car. This is a master of the road. This is a chick magnet. This is--"

"This is too messed up to save, Sam." The security guard examined the inside of the car. "Phew. Stinks like piss. There's not enough little pine-tree air fresheners in the world to help this baby."

"Why? Why me?" Sausage slapped a hand over his face and shook his head. He dropped his hand into a fist again and glared at Lony. "I know Stiles is behind this!"

"The city is still infested with rats since the garbage strike last year," Lony said calmly. "Incidents like this are still being reported, as are the super rats. Think about it, Sam. Stiles has been locked up for months now."

"Dr. Seil is right," Nurse Doreen said. "Willard Stiles couldn't possibly have done this. We worked on his unit all night, Sam, and we know he never left his room."

His teeth gritted, Sam struggled to regulate his breathing. "I don't know how he did it, but it's too much of a coincidence that the rat man is here at Arkham and now my car is ruined."

"Why just your car?" Lony asked. "Even if it were possible for Stiles from inside a hospital room to somehow command wild rats to destroy your car, why would he single you out?"

The expression on Sausage's face was priceless. If he said why Stiles had a vendetta against him, then he admitted to abusing patients. 

"Because. . .because he's crazy, that's why!" Sausage blurted out. "These loonies don't need a reason, other than what they've made up in their own twisted little minds!"

Doreen's eyes widened and then narrowed. "That's very compassionate, Sam."

"At this moment, I don't give a rat's ass about compassionate! What about my car?"

"I suggest you contact your insurance company," Lony said.

Sausage placed both hands on the roof of the car and leaned on it, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Just everybody leave me alone."

Doreen sighed. "Sam, if you need a ride home, I can give you a lift."

Points to her for volunteering to share a small space with Sausage Breath.

"No. I'm good. I'm great. Damn it!" Sausage kicked a tire, and then he turned to Lony again, his eyes blazing. "When I find out who's responsible for this--"

"Just a warning, Sam. No matter what, you can't threaten any patient here, regardless of what you think they've done. They're here because they're sick, and your job is to help them," Lony said.

"I'm starting to think I need to find another stinkin' job."

Doreen and the security guard exchanged glances. Lony tried not to smile. This was going so well. Yesterday had thrown a wrench into his plans, but today was starting out perfectly.

"Maybe that's something to consider." Lony held Sausage's gaze. The orderly ground his teeth so hard that the sound of bone on bone echoed in the garage. Sausage turned abruptly and stalked toward the exit.

"Hey, Sam!" the security guard called. "We need to make a report about this! Sam!" He chased after Sausage.

With a cheerful smile, Lony turned to the nurse. "And how is your morning going, Doreen? I trust your car is in working order?"

"Yes." She held his gaze with a questioning look. "Doctor, you don't think that Willard--" She looked sheepish, chuckled a bit, and shook her head. "It's impossible. I think I need to go home and get some sleep."

"That's a wise idea. And for the record, I agree that it's impossible. Willard Stiles was safe inside all night. You said so yourself. And how could he possibly train rats? I haven't seen any inside Arkham, have you?"

"No." Doreen looked relieved and smiled again, this time more relaxed. "No, I haven't. Have good day, doctor."

"You as well, and thank you, Doreen, for remaining so calm and level-headed around Sam. He's been a bit on edge lately, and it's starting to concern me."

She nodded and sighed again. "Me, too."

"Is there anything else you've noticed about him? Any changes or incidents he's been involved in?"

She paused a moment, and then she shook her head. "No. Nothing specific, although I'm not sure that he's cut out for working with the mentally ill. It can be frustrating and even scary at times, but we can't let our feelings affect how we treat patients."

"So true. Thank you, Doreen." Lony turned and continued into the building.

He chuckled to himself. How had Stiles done it? From what Lony had observed, he only handled one little rat, or sometimes up to three, at a time. It had taken far more than three rats to demolish Sausage Breath's car. Yes, Willard Stiles was clever. This only served to remind Lony that he should never drop his guard around the rat man.

  



	37. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur might be in isolation, but he's not abandoned.

After Lony left, Joker sat in a corner of the padded room. Blood from his split lips trickled down his chin and neck. It tickled. Annoying.

He didn't completely believe that someone would come in to clean him up and offer basic comforts. In the past it had been hit or miss, depending on whose shift it was.

Part of him hoped that Dr. Lies had been true to his name and Sausage would be back. He wasn't done with that fucker yet. If he hadn't been distracted by Hunter in the elevator, Joker would have finished what he'd started.

He wasn't surprised when they'd dragged him into isolation and shoved him into a straightjacket. It figured he'd be blamed for fighting with Yeti. Locking him in here was more for punishment than for safety. Dr. Lies walking out of here and leaving him in a straightjacket was proof of that. Joker didn't buy for a minute that Dr. Lies was afraid of him. When he'd accused Joker of wanting to hurt him, there had been excitement in his eyes. Now that he'd calmed down a little, Arthur realized that.

A short time later, the door opened again and Doreen stepped in. Arthur was relieved to see her. The most he'd get from her was a lecture. Two orderlies followed her. Oh well. He didn't expect any less. Doreen was always so _careful_ around him, like she expected him to go wild and attack her at any second. He'd never even considered hurting her. Not once. She'd been nice to him since the day he'd arrived, and Arthur never forgot kindness. He'd had so little of it in his life that it stood out like a TV screen in a dark room.

"Hello, Arthur." Doreen approached with a few first aid supplies.

"Hi, Doreen," he rasped, and then he grinned at the orderlies. "Hi, guys."

The big goons didn't smile back and one of them grunted a reply. No one had any manners these days. Maybe that's what attracted him to Willard. He was a polite, old-fashioned boy stuck in an uncivilized world.

"I'm going to clean you up." Doreen pulled on gloves and paused for a moment. "Okay?"

"Uh huh. Yeah." He smiled and waited quietly. Patiently. Unmoving. That seemed to make her feel better, and she moved closer to treat him.

"Is Willard okay?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, he's doing well," Doreen replied. She started to say more, but paused and continued cleaning his face. Then she added, "Hunter wanted me to tell you that she's thinking about you."

Warmth filled Arthur and he smiled, his gaze flickering toward Doreen's. "She's okay?"

"She's fine. She wanted to see you, but she's not allowed to come here, per Dr. Seil."

_Fuck Dr. fucking Lies._

Doreen continued working on him in silence. She was particularly gentle on his neck. It hurt a lot to talk, and he hoped he wouldn't have a laughing episode. Just thinking about the pain--

"Ha! Ha ha!" Fuck it. Thinking about it made him laugh.

"Breathe, Arthur," Doreen said in a calm, stern voice, but there was sympathy in her eyes. He noticed things like that.

Luckily, the episode passed quickly. Tears poured down his face, and it even hurt to breathe. Fuck Yeti. Joker would have to kill him. It was becoming a matter of survival, and one thing life had taught Joker was how to survive.

Doreen wiped his face. "Do you want some water?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

One of the orderlies left and returned a short time later with water. Arthur drank it all.

"Bathroom?" the orderly asked.

"Not right now, thanks." Arthur lifted his gaze to the burly young man who stared at him with an unreadable expression.

They left him alone again, but not for long. When the orderlies returned, they removed the straightjacket and brought Arthur to the bathroom, and then they gave him a sleeping pill before bed. Arthur probably would have slept without it tonight. He was that tired and sore from the fight with Yeti.

Arthur drifted to sleep, still lost in hazy thoughts.

* * *

For two days Arthur remained in isolation. It felt like two years. Still, Doreen and the orderlies visited him often to look after his needs. Dr. Lies had told the truth about that. It made sense, though. He wanted Arthur well enough to continue their plan.

Doreen told him that Hunter and Willard asked about him often and looked forward to his return to the unit. Knowing they cared warmed him and somehow prevented him from focusing solely on his rage at being kept in isolation for a fight Yeti had started.

Isolation was boring. He missed Willard and Hunter so much it hurt. He missed his swimming lessons and drawing and watching TV in the rec room. He even missed the sound of patients and staff. Joker didn't do well without an audience. The meds kept him from hallucinating, but he still had an active imagination. Sometimes he'd picture himself on stage before a huge audience, dancing and telling jokes. They loved him, and he looked good in his paint and bright red suit. Sometimes he imagined himself in a black suit or a tux. Willard would appreciate that. Maybe some of the rich boy's class was rubbing off on him.

_Rubbing off._ Arthur wanted Willard to rub off on him in another way, or vice versa. Two days without touching his lover through the rat hole seemed more like two years.

And Hunter. He'd fantasized about sex with her for so long, and when he'd finally had the chance he'd been clumsier than he'd wanted to be. Hunter told him he was a beautiful lover, but she probably wanted to make him feel good. She was sweet. Not that he thought she'd faked her orgasm or anything like that. She'd seemed to really enjoy herself. He'd seen enough porn to understand that women liked oral sex, and how wrong could he go?

_Just use common cents_ , he'd told himself. _Be gentle and pay attention to what she says and does._ He'd used his tongue and lips and let her moans and hands guide him.

He could almost taste her at times. Smell her. Just thinking about it made him hard, so he jerked off. Fuck the cameras. Fuck everybody. There were some things Arkham couldn't take away from him, even in isolation.

On the third morning, two orderlies came to escort him back to his unit. He arrived in the cafeteria just in time for breakfast.

As Arthur approached, Willard's gaze darted toward him. Those gorgeous blue eyes brightened and Willard smiled.

"Welcome back," Willard said.

Ignoring the rules, Arthur stepped toward him and kissed the top of his head. That shiny black hair felt so soft against his lips. He wanted to kiss Willard on the mouth, but maybe it was better not to push his luck. He did just get out of isolation.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice the kiss. Arthur sat across from Willard and grinned at the sight of the blush fading from Willard's pale face.

"How have you been?" Arthur asked. "Are you okay? How's Hunter? What's going on with Aristotle? Has Sausage been an asshole? How about--"

"Arthur." Willard smiled. "One question at a time. I'm fine. Hunter is well. Aristotle is perfect, and we haven't seen Sausage for a couple of days. Rumor has it he quit after his car was destroyed in the parking garage."

Arthur laughed. "That's beautiful. I wonder who destroyed it?"

Willard cast his gaze down briefly. When he looked up at Arthur again, there was an expression in his eyes Arthur had never seen before. Victorious was the best word to describe it.

"What's going on?" Joker grinned.

Leaning closer, Willard whispered, "We have a lot to talk about. Aristotle and his friends are probably the most intelligent, well-behaved rats in the world, and they're on our side, Arthur."

"Well that sounds interesting. I can't wait to hear more."

Locking gazes, Arthur and Willard smiled at each other.

_It's so good to be back._


	38. Future Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter reflects on her success with Willard's rats. She and Arthur are reunited, and she worries that instead of calming Arthur, his time in isolation has made him more reckless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who has left kudos, a comment, or read this story!

Hunter had crossed a lot of lines in her life. Growing up without parents, she'd learned to be tough, but strangely enough she hadn't lost her empathy. That part of her had been slowly uncovered when she'd been adopted by a loving family. She'd been a handful for them at first. Rebellion was in her nature, and she'd learned not to trust anyone, that any happiness she found would be snatched from her. She'd put up lots of walls, but eventually, her mom and dad had gotten through. TJ hadn't been wild about her in the beginning, but that had changed one day at school when she'd fought off a couple of boys picking on her younger sister. From then on, TJ had softened toward Hunter, but even then she'd been a little afraid of her.

Maybe TJ was right. Hunter had a violent, vindictive side. The fucking rapists had brought out that part of her in full force. After the incident, Hunter had tried to bury it, like she'd once buried her softer side, but this time it hadn't fully worked. What she and Willard had done proved that, and just like with the fucking rapists, she didn't regret what she'd done for a second. Willard's plan was actually kinder than what Hunter had wanted to do after she'd learned that Sausage had been responsible for Yeti's attack.

Two days had passed since they'd taken revenge on Sausage, and she could still scarcely believe their plan had worked. It hadn't been terribly difficult. During her work shift, she'd wheeled a laundry cart to Willard's room. While she changed his sheets, they'd smuggled dozens of his furry little friends into the cart. Hunter had been nervous about it, but Willard assured her that they were well trained. She'd already met several of them and they liked her. If they obeyed her commands, the others would follow.

She'd been certain that someone would walk in while they were loading rats from the hole in the wall to the cart, but they were careful to hide them in the bedding, and the rats were impressively cooperative. Still, Willard was present and he had an almost otherworldly connection to them.

The real test came when she brought the laundry cart to the parking garage and released them. Everyone knew there were cameras all over Arkham, even in the parking garage, but no one would recognize Hunter. Wearing her hair pulled back tightly, dark glasses covering her eyes, and dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt, she headed toward Sausage's car. Her heart thumped with excitement when the rats followed her.

 _I feel like the fucking Pied Piper._ She chuckled softly.

Gaining access to the car wasn't difficult. When she was about eleven years old, she had a friend whose brother "borrowed" cars often. Hunter had been with them enough times to have picked up a few things. Of course, all that had stopped once she'd been adopted.

"Tear it," Hunter commanded, just like Willard had told her. "Tear it!"

To her elation, the rats did as instructed.

When they'd finished their work, she'd collected them in an alley between the hospital and the office building next door. Willard had suggested a couple of roomy travel bags, and that had worked perfectly. She carried them two blocks--they were surprisingly heavy little fuckers when piled together--and hoisted them into the trunk of a car she'd rented.

She'd promised Willard she'd help him smuggle his friends out of Arkham, but she'd planned to do it a few at a time in her purse. Sausage had prompted them to act quicker and on a grander scale, but it needed to be done. Now that she'd witnessed what the rats could do, she realized that they could be an important weapon for the trio. Smuggling them out of Arkham was the right thing to do, as long as they got away with it.

When they had discussed the rats, she'd been uncertain about where to house them. What did one do with dozens of tame rats? Willard had the answer as soon as Dr. Seil said he'd purchased his old house.

"There's a heavily wooded area behind the house," Willard had said. "There's a tool shed there. It's buried in vegetation and hasn't been used in years. If Only Lies doesn’t know about it--which he might not, unless he's planning to clear out the trees--it will be a good place for the rats. They'll be nearby, but safe from prying eyes."

Hunter had been long gone by the time Sausage discovered his wrecked car, so she'd missed his reaction, but she'd heard about it later. She'd been terrified going into work the night after. Surely they wouldn't get away with it. Someone must have noticed her and Willard smuggling the rats into the laundry cart or recognized Hunter on the parking lot video surveillance.

Nothing. No one even questioned her. She was safe.

And Sausage hadn't shown up for work that night or the night after.

She'd heard through the grapevine that no one had been able to contact him. Willard had told Dr. Lies about Sausage starting the fight, and Hunter wondered if he had something to do with Sausage's disappearance. She shrugged it off. Sausage had caused nothing but misery to many patients, so good riddance.

"It worked?" Willard had asked that night when they'd sat in the rec room during visiting hours. "They listened to you?"

"They were awesome. They followed every command, just like you said they would."

Willard smiled, closing his eyes and releasing a pent-up breath. Then he gazed at Hunter with a look of pride and triumph.

"You're really good with them," Hunter admitted. "You have a great talent, Willard."

He looked pleased but sheepish and cast his gaze down, shaking his head. "It wasn't just me. They like you, too, and they trust you. If they didn't, they wouldn't have listened to you. They're safe now, though?"

"Yes. They're in the shed. I brought them lots of food, and I'm going to try to get over there as often as possible to keep up their training until you get out of here."

"I'm worried about Arthur."

"So am I." Hunter sighed. She'd been trying not to think of all the things that could be happening to Arthur. Nurse Doreen had assured both her and Willard that Arthur was doing well, and she'd promised to let him know that she and Willard were thinking about him. Hunter believed her.

Still, she knew how much Arthur hated isolation. He'd lived such a lonely life, even when he'd been surrounded by people, but since meeting her and Willard, he seemed happier than when they'd first met--satisfied, somehow. That was a big step for someone who craved attention as much as Arthur.

Walking into Arkham, Hunter considered that this would be the third day of Arthur's isolation. When was Dr. Lies going to let him out? How much longer did he intend to punish Arthur?

She stood at her locker, about to change into her uniform, when another housekeeper, Toni, approached. She and Hunter made small talk at work, but Hunter could never be friends with her, not knowing how Toni felt about Arthur and Willard. She'd never forget the conversation they'd had when Hunter first started working at Arkham. Toni thought both guys were unsalvageable creeps, but Hunter knew better. Still, Toni hadn't said much about either Arthur or Willard since Hunter had been recruited by Dr. Seil to assist in their treatment. Hunter gave her points for that.

"Hey, Hunter, have you heard? You probably already know, but Arthur Fleck was released from isolation this morning," Toni said, leaning against the lockers.

Relieved and happy, Hunter smiled. "That's great! I didn't hear about it. Thanks for telling me. Have you seen him?"

"Just from a distance when I was washing floors. You know I stay as far away from Fleck as I can. Honestly, I give you credit for getting so close, but Dr. Seil must know what he's doing."

"I'm less worried about Arthur than I am about certain other patients around here."

"I know. Guys like Yeti are scary. At least Fleck is a little shit. It just goes to show how wild Fleck is, when he can take on an ape like Yeti twice and live to tell about it."

"There's a lot to Arthur." Hunter focused on putting away her belongings. She wished she could have brought something for Arthur to celebrate his return to the unit. Tomorrow, maybe. He could use a new sketchpad. He went through about one a month. He had given Hunter two filled with notes and sketches. She liked to look at them when she was alone in her apartment. His self-portraits--interesting pieces--and the ones he'd drawn of Willard were especially comforting.

After changing quickly, Hunter headed directly to the rec room for visiting hours. Arthur and Willard sat together at a corner table. Arthur was in the middle of an animated speech when Willard nudged him and nodded toward Hunter. A huge grin spread across Arthur's face. He stood, walked toward Hunter and hugged her so tight she almost couldn't breathe. She squeezed him, closing her eyes and rubbing his back. After a moment, he loosened his grip, and she stood at arm's length.

"Welcome back, baby. Let me take a look at you." She studied him carefully. He still had bruises, but at least the swelling on his nose and around his eyes had gone down. "How are you doing?"

"Good." He stared at her, his green eyes aglow and a little moist. He blinked and hugged her again. "I really missed you."

"You, too. Some things have happened over the past few days."

"I know. Willard told me about Sausage and the rats and--" He paused and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "And about the tool shed."

"Then I guess you're pretty much caught up."

"Still no word from Sausage?"

"Arthur, we've talked about this." Willard, who had approached, cast a stern look at Joker. "If Sausage is gone, then good riddance."

"I still owe him for what he did." Joker turned his fierce gaze to Willard.

"I told you that Hunter and I have taken care of it."

"By wrecking a car."

"Lower your voice. Do you want to get us all in trouble?" Willard said, as if speaking to a naughty child.

Joker wasn't having it. He continued staring belligerently at Willard. "He nearly got the three of us killed."

"And now he's gone, so we can forget about him."

"What if he comes back?"

"Guys." Hunter placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder and her other on Willard's. "We're together again, so let's enjoy it, okay"

They glared at each other for a moment, but there was a spark of something else. Hunter wasn't dumb enough to think that their little spats didn't turn them on, yet they couldn't do anything about it here in the rec room during visiting hours. Not that Hunter didn't fantasize about sleeping with them. She'd even started to believe that eventually, they'd have the chance.

"I plan to enjoy every minute," Arthur said. Hunter didn't miss the gleam in his eyes, and she couldn't help wondering what Joker was cooking up now. Instead of calming him, isolation seemed to have stirred up Joker's old wildness. His energy, which usually focused on their future and his swimming lessons, had been turned inward again. When that happened, he had to release it or he might implode. As much as Hunter loved his spirit, she couldn't help hoping that he wouldn't do anything too crazy, not when in just a few months, Willard might be released.

Now more than ever, they needed to be on their best behavior.


	39. The Prince and His Posse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since the incident with Yeti, Arthur hasn't been the same. Something big is about to happen, and Willard fears for their future.

Willard should have known better than to believe that good fortune would last. Nearly two weeks had passed since the incident with Yeti. The rats were still safe in the tool shed on Willard's family's property. Hunter worked with them regularly and reported back to Willard about their progress and for advice on their training. Willard and Arthur had fully recovered from their injuries, at least physically.

Both Willard and Hunter worried about Arthur. Since his last fight with Yeti and his time in isolation, he hadn't been the same. He'd returned to his swimming lessons, and went through the motions of everyday life, but he'd buried his gentler side again. More often than not he wore Joker's smile, and the softness in his beautiful eyes had all but disappeared, except for certain moments. Sometimes at night, through the rat hole, after they'd touched each other, Arthur was there. At times when he talked to Hunter, he was there as well.

Still, Willard felt a storm brewing. It was only a matter of time before it hit in full force.

Willard was surprised that Only Lies couldn't sense the change in his star pupil. Maybe he was so obsessed with becoming Joker himself that he neither noticed nor cared that Arthur wasn't anywhere close to letting him go.

Not that Arthur _could let_ him go. Joker wasn't a separate entity. He was Arthur when he released his inhibitions and no longer gave a fu-- No longer cared.

Willard scolded himself. He'd almost used that crass word. Arthur and even Hunter flung it around too easily, and in Willard's opinion they were both too intelligent to rely on profanity. With any luck, he'd have years to work on that with them.

Though Willard knew the storm was coming, it still took him by surprise when it finally struck on a Saturday evening. Willard had finished dinner and paced around his room. Sitting after a meal wasn't good for one's health.

Willard's door opened, and he expected to see a nurse, an orderly, or maybe even Hunter. His heart palpitated at the sight of Arthur striding in, wearing a big grin. Mischief and something a little scarier glistened in his eyes. His graceful fingers toyed with a ring of keys.

"Arthur, what have you done?" Willard stared at him in disbelief. "Whose keys--"

"That new orderly who replaced Sausage. What's his name? Jim, I think? Who knows and who cares."

"What have you done with him?"

"He's taking a little nap in my room."

"You need to turn in those keys and go back to your room right now."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "Are you crazy? If I was going to do that, I wouldn't have bothered to do this." He turned and glanced into the hall. "Ah. Nurse Julie is on her way." He slid against the wall.

Willard considered shouting, but he was fairly certain it wouldn't stop Arthur, and it might even cause more chaos.

No sooner had the nurse stuck a toe into the room than Arthur grabbed her in a choke hold, gripping her close to his chest.

Panic crossed her face and shone in her eyes, but she managed to remain relatively calm. Instinctively, she reached up and sank her nails into Arthur's forearm. He either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Arthur, let me go," she said in a stern voice. "Whatever's bothering you, we can work it out, but you have to release me."

"I don't have to do anything. I'm not the one in the choke hold of a loony."

"What are you going to do, Arthur? You'll never get out of here."

"I'm crazy, not stupid," he said close to her ear, the wicked grin still on his lips. "I'm not trying to get out."

Her calm veneer slipped and she winced. When she spoke, there was a waver in her voice. "Wh. . .what are you trying to do, then?"

"Blow off a little steam--"

"Arthur, oh, my goodness!" Doreen stared in the doorway.

"Hi, Doreen," he said brightly. "No, don't move. If you do, I'll have to break her neck, and that won't be good for anyone, right?"

"Do what he says," Julie pleaded.

"Arthur, let her go." Willard stepped closer.

"You too, sweetheart." Arthur winked at Willard. "If you're not going to help, then stay out of my way."

Two orderlies, one carrying a straightjacket and the other a needle, joined Doreen.

Arthur continued smiling. "You know I can snap her neck before you get to me." The wild look in his eyes was nothing short of terrifying. Even worse was knowing that neither meds nor therapy controlled this part of him. Joker wasn't a hallucination or part of a delusion. He wasn't a separate personality. He _was_ Arthur.

Doreen stared at him with a patient expression on her face. She must have been as worried as everyone else, but she covered it well. "There's no need to hurt anyone, Arthur. Let her go, and everything will be fine."

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Doreen, nothing is ever fine in here. We both know that."

"Hurting Julie won't make it any better."

"You." Arthur glanced at the orderly holding the needle. "Give him the shot." He jerked his chin toward the other orderly.

"Arthur, you know he can't do that--"

"Doreen!" Arthur shouted. Then he lowered his voice and batted his lashes at her. "Be a love and stay out of this, okay? You." He glanced at the orderly again. "Give him the shot."

The orderly hesitated before turning to his coworker.

"Hey, man, you can't do it," said the other orderly.

"Shut up!" Arthur commanded.

"Sorry, Larry, but I have to." The orderly administered the injection and eased his friend to the floor as he lost consciousness.

"Doreen, put the straightjacket on him. Not on the one who's out! On the one who gave the fuckin' shot."

"Arthur, please reconsider what you're doing." Doreen glanced at him while putting the straightjacket on the orderly.

"Willard, take these keys and let the others out, except for Yeti."

"No."

Arthur glanced at him sharply. "You're seriously not going to help with this?"

"Absolutely not, and if you weren’t out of your mind, you'd stop right now!" Willard screamed. Clenching his fists, he tried to regulate his breathing. In less than a month, he could be out of here, but not if he cooperated with Arthur tonight.

What would Only Lies do when he heard about this? How would he punish Arthur? He was bound to be furious. This wasn't part of his plan.

Arthur rolled his eyes again. "But I _am_ out of my mind. So are you. That's why we're here, right?"

"I won't be part of this." Willard struggled to keep from screeching. Whenever he was this upset, he couldn't keep the shrillness from his voice.

"Okay. It doesn't matter. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Back away, Doreen."

Still dragging Nurse Julie, Arthur made his way to the door. In the hallway, Doreen turned to run, but Arthur warned her that if she moved, Julie wouldn't live to see morning. No doubt Doreen wanted to call security.

With the patients supposedly locked in their rooms and fewer staff members on duty, the night shift was the perfect time for a takeover at Arkham.

Peering out his door, Willard watched Arthur stop at Amanda's room. After unlocking it, he called, "Hey, Amanda. Will you help me open the other doors? Yeah? I knew I could count on you." He tossed the keys into her room. "Let everyone out except Yeti."

It was like a nightmare. Soon everyone in the unit was out. The remaining staff members were bound or drugged, and locked in Amanda's room.

Arthur found a radio in the staff room and brought it to the nurse's station. He turned it on full blast so that the song _Abracadabra_ blared throughout the unit.

Willard quivered with anger and fear. Arthur wasn't listening to a word he said. He was ruining whatever slim chance they had to get out of here, if Only Lies happened to be telling the truth.

"Arthur! You have to get a hold of yourself!" Willard strode toward the nurses' station where Arthur sat on the desk, his legs crossed and an expression of bliss on his face. All around him, patients talked, laughed, danced, screamed, and cried. Some still cowered in their rooms.

If this continued, someone was bound to get hurt or worse. Mr. Martin was one thing, but Willard didn't want the death of an innocent person on his hands, and aside from Hunter, he was the only one who might convince Arthur to stop this madness.

Arthur turned his burning gaze to Willard, placed his hands on his shoulders and uncrossed his legs to tug Willard between them. "You don't want to go with this. I know, but I still love you." Taking Willard's face in his hands, Arthur kissed him. His warm, moist lips pressed hard against Willard's, stirring emotions that Willard didn't want to deal with right now. Still, when Arthur thrust his tongue into Willard's mouth, he didn't try to stop him. Closing his eyes, Willard locked his arms around Arthur, squeezing his slim, hard body so close that their hearts thundered together as one.

Arthur broke the kiss, leaving them breathless.

"Please don't do this," Willard whispered against Arthur's lips.

Joker only smiled, gently pushed Willard back, and hopped off the desk. He strode away, the keys jingling in his hand. Willard followed, his stomach clenched. Had he finally gotten through to Arthur?

Joker stepped onto the elevator, and Willard followed. "Now where are you going?"

"We're having a party, and I'm not dressed for it."

Once the elevator stopped, they headed down the corridor toward Dr. Seil's office. With any luck, they'd get caught before this went too far. Unfortunately, they made it to the office without a soul in sight. The door was locked, but Joker kicked it in with surprising ease. He'd clearly gained strength from all that swimming, and the way he'd restrained Nurse Julie had been rather professional. Only Lies had apparently taught him many new skills.

In the office, Arthur rummaged through a closet, selecting black pants, a matching jacket, and a dark purple shirt. After kicking off his slip-on shoes, he slid his feet into a pair of shiny black ones and tied them.

"Do you want some clothes? I think you're broader through the shoulders than we are, but they'll probably still fit."

"No. Thank you." Willard didn't keep the distaste from his face and voice. "I no longer wear suits that belong to other people."

He could still hear Mr. Martin ridiculing him for going to work in his dead father's suit.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, you do. Don't tell me you think other patients haven't worn these ugly things we have on right now."

"What do you think you'll gain from all this?"

"If you don't know, then there's no point explaining it to you."

They left the office and headed to the elevator. Willard couldn't believe that security hadn't discovered what was going on, but when they arrived back at their unit, the same chaos reigned.

To _Tainted Love,_ Arthur danced his way through the mingling patients. He paused at a utility closet, unlocked it, and rummaged through shelves and boxes.

"What are you looking for?" Willard demanded, exasperated.

Arthur hummed and laughed softly, holding up a pair of bolt cutters. He brought them to the staff room where he quickly shed his hospital clothes.

Naked, every bone and muscle visible through skin marred by fading bruises and old scars, Arthur reached for the stolen suit.

Willard's pulse raced at the sight of Arthur like this--so raw.

Wild.

Free.

Assertive.

Willard would never allow himself to be dominated again, but that didn't mean he didn't find Arthur's dominant personality arousing.

As if sensing Willard's thoughts, Arthur dropped the suit, approached, and kissed him again. They had never been this close with the freedom to kiss and touch each other. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to indulge just a little. Willard smoothed his hands over Arthur's shoulders and back. Arkham was chilly, and Arthur's skin was at first cool to the touch, but it warmed beneath Willard's hands. He ran his fingertips up and down Arthur's prominent spine. Then he grasped Arthur's small, tight buttocks.

Groaning, Arthur deepened the kiss. Their tongues danced. Arthur held Willard's face in his hands and Willard wove his fingers through Arthur's thick, messy hair. They were both hard already, pressing against each other. Arthur swept his hands down Willard's sides, around his lower back, and cupped his bottom. He ground against Willard. The groan that escaped Willard was almost a sob. He opened his mouth wider. His eyes closed, he thrust against Arthur, too. If they kept this up, he'd climax like this.

Arthur pulled away, his breathing heavy.

"I guess you like my idea after all," Joker said in a husky voice. He turned to pull on the suit.

Willard tried to control his breathing and resisted the urge to stroke himself. He was so hard that his erection tented his hospital pants. This was so embarrassing, but he couldn't help it.

Arthur was rock-hard, too, but it was less noticeable once he put on the jacket. He looked quite handsome in Only Lies's suit. It was the perfect length for him, but a little big, though Arthur had gained some weight, mostly in muscle, and Only Lies had clearly lost several pounds over the past months, in accordance with their plan.

Using the bolt cutter, Arthur broke into a locker.

"What do we have?" Arthur stuck his hand into the pocket of a worn black windbreaker. He tugged out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Jackpot!"

Arthur pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag, closed his eyes and blew smoke toward the ceiling. "Fuck. Just what I needed."

He slipped the cigarettes and lighter into his jacket pocket.

"I thought you quit smoking?"

"Quit schmit. One or two won't hurt. I haven't smoked in months. Doctor's orders." The cigarette between his lips, he cut open the bolt on the next locker, poked through it, and tossed whatever he found inside onto a nearby table before moving to the next one. This continued until he found what he wanted. He pulled out a brown leather purse and dumped its contents on the table, as well. Glancing into the wallet, he shrugged and tossed it aside. "It belongs to the bitch. Julie, if you don't know who I mean."

"I guessed," Willard said softly.

Arms folded across his chest, he watched Arthur drop the cigarette and squash it out on the floor before opening a pink cosmetics bag. Gazing into a hand mirror, he used blue eye shadow to draw triangles above and below his eyes. He applied dark, rose-colored blush to the tip of his nose.

Willard's stomach tightened and his heart beat faster. He talked to Joker every day, but he'd never seen him like this--as the clown who had murdered Murray Franklin on live TV.

"Fuck," Arthur muttered, curling his lip. "She has pink lipstick. Well that's useless." He tossed the cosmetics bag aside.

Arthur headed for the door again, and Willard followed him to Amanda's room where the staff members who were still conscious stared at him, terrified. So far he hadn't actually harmed anyone, not even Yeti. Willard hoped it stayed that way.

"Hey, Doreen." Arthur offered the nurse a genuine smile and carefully helped her to her feet. He'd neither drugged her nor placed her in a straightjacket, but used soft wrist restraints to bind her to the table leg. She didn't respond verbally, but stared at him warily and moistened her dry lips.

Guiding her with a hand on her upper arm, he tugged her out of the room and locked it behind them.

"Do you have makeup?" Arthur asked.

Swallowing visibly, Doreen nodded. "Some. In my purse."

Arthur released her restraints and she instinctively rubbed her wrists.

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Good. Let's get your purse. Do you have lipstick?"

"I do."

Willard followed them to the staff room. Doreen stared at the mess Arthur had made. Hers was one of the untouched lockers. She opened it, removed a silver cosmetics bag, and handed it to Arthur.

He unzipped it and searched through, selecting a tube of bright red lipstick. "Perfect. Thank you." He handed the bag back to her.

Doreen stared at him while he applied a big red smile around his mouth. Then he turned to her, as if realizing she was still there. "It's okay, Doreen. Get your stuff. You can go."

"Arthur, please let me help with this. All you have to do is--"

"I don't have to do anything. If you want to stay and join the party, I won't stop you, but you have to decide right now, okay?" He gently touched her cheek and smiled. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. You've always been nice to me."

"I. . .I'd like to go."

"Okay. Sure. Come on."

Doreen quickly grabbed her purse and coat. Arthur and Willard escorted her to the elevator.

"This won't last, Arthur," Doreen said. "If you stop this right now, I might be able to help you."

"That's sweet, Doreen, but some things you can't help. Take care of yourself."

"You, too, Arthur. Goodbye, Willard."

The elevator doors closed. Arthur sighed, his smile vanishing momentarily. When he turned to Willard, the grin was back in place.

"You're still here," Joker said.

"Of course I'm here. Even with the mess you've made, we still might be able to salvage our plan."

"Our plan. The one you didn't want in the first place." Joker strode back to the unit, lighting another cigarette on the way. "Relax. This will be over soon, and we'll be locked away again. Safe and sound. Before that happens, though, let's have some fun."

"You really call this fun?"

"I mean you and me. Let's have some _fun_." Joker stared at Willard and wiggled his eyebrows.

Willard's pulse quickened again. Despite himself, he allowed Joker to grasp his hand and drag him back to the staff room.

Joker stood over the table and searched through the piles of items he'd found in the lockers. He opened a container of petroleum jelly and Willard's heart nearly leapt through his chest. They could really do this if they wanted to. Willard had said not until they left Arkham, but there were no cameras in the staff room. What if they never got out? This might be their only chance to truly touch each other. Willard had dreamed about it so often that it almost hurt not to be with Arthur in that way.

Joker smoothed the lubricant over his hands. "Undress."

Willard glared at him. "You don't tell me what to do."

Joker's smile faded, and he stepped closer to speak against Willard's mouth. "Pretty please with a cherry on top. Undress."


	40. A New Resident of Old Arkham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lony surrenders to his craving while at the same time keeping a promise to Arthur.

Medical and religious workers, sometimes even artists and athletes, often talk about being "called' to their vocation. Lony had never felt that way about psychiatry. His job was a cover--a means to acceptance in the world of "normal" people. Oh, he valued the skills he'd learned because it helped with his true calling.

It was even more than a calling, but a hunger, a need that could only be denied for so long. He'd been controlling it for months now, but the incident with Sausage had pushed him to his limits and he _needed_ it. This was the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, as they say.

He couldn't allow Sausage to interfere again. The orderly enjoyed watching people writhe, and he thought he was good at getting them to do it, but he was a mere amateur, and he was about to learn that.

On the day Sausage's car had been wrecked, Lony left work a bit early. After taking care of a few important errands, he drove to the orderly's duplex and knocked on his door.

"Dr. Seil." Sausage looked surprised to see him. "What can I do you for?"

"It's what _I_ can do for _you_ , Sam." Lony smiled. "I thought you might need a lift to work."

Sausage scrubbed a hand through his rumpled dark hair. "Yeah. I was just gonna call a cab."

"I'd be happy to drive you."

"Didn't you just get off your shift?"

"It's no trouble. There's actually something I forgot to do, so I need to go back to Arkham anyway. I was in the area and thought I'd stop by before heading back there."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll be ready in about five minutes."

"That will be fine. I'll meet you at my car. It's black and parked right out front."

Sam gave a half-assed salute and closed his door. How rude. He didn't even offer to allow Lony inside--not that he was particularly eager to see or smell the inside of Sausage's abode.

Raising an eyebrow, Lony turned on his heel and strode to the car he'd borrowed specifically for tonight. Despite the chill in the air, Lony rolled down the windows halfway in preparation for the ride with Sausage.

Moments later, the orderly opened the car door and dropped into the passenger seat.

"Nice wheels," Sausage said. "But I guess it's easier for a guy like you to have a car like this than it is for me."

"I guess." Lony smirked.

"Don't you think it's a little cold in here, doc?" Sausage folded his arms and lowered his head, turtle-like, into his jacket.

Lony glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "It could get a lot colder."

"Hot-blooded, huh? I would have thought a thin guy like you would be freezing all the time."

"Hot. Cold. One's condition is little more than a state of mind."

"Okay, doc." Sausage blew on his hands and rubbed them together.

By the time they reached Arkham, darkness had fallen. Instead of driving to the garage, Lony continued toward the old, decaying mansion behind the massive hospital.

"What are we doing here?" Sausage asked when Lony parked among the overgrown trees behind the mansion.

"Do you know what this place is, Sam?"

"Yeah. Everybody does. It's the original Arkham from way back. Like the early 1900s or something like that."

"1879 to be exact."

"You a history buff or something?"

"Or something." Lony forced a smile. "I'm doing research about old Arkham to help with a few changes in our current hospital. There are some old trunks in here that are too bulky for one man to carry. I thought that you might help me with them."

Sam chuckled. "Well, moving man ain't part of my job description, but seeing how you gave me a lift tonight, I think I can help you out."

Lony's grin broadened. "Thank you, Sam, for your cooperation."

"Yeah, well, I'm a helluva guy."

They stepped out of the car, and Lony guided Sam into the building.

Lony pulled out a flashlight, and they made their way through the main room, empty except for some old, broken furniture. Their footsteps echoed down the dusty hallway. They ascended a long flight of stairs to the basement.

"Where are the trunks, doc?"

"Right in there." Lony pointed to an old laundry room. Sausage headed into it.

Despite his anticipation, Lony's heartbeat and breathing remained slow and even. There would be time later to enjoy the excitement. It took just moments to inject Sausage. The orderly collapsed, unconscious on the floor.

Using a fireman's lift, Lony carried Sausage out of the utility room and even deeper into the bowels of old Arkham. Many unfortunates had lived and died here. Some said their ghosts still clung to the walls of this hellish asylum. The old residents of Arkham were about to welcome a new one.

Using chains and shackles, Lony secured Sausage to a rickety bed in an old isolation room. Then he went to his car to retrieve a travel bag and a suit still covered in paper from the dry cleaners.

In a filthy old washroom, he opened the bag and withdrew the contents--greasepaint and a dark green wig of dyed human hair. Excitement tingled inside him, but he controlled it. Soon. Very soon he could immerse himself in his true nature.

He tugged a mirror out of the bag and propped it on the sink. Then he carefully shaved his heavy gray beard. When he finished, he stared at himself, running a hand over his smooth jaw and staring into his sparkling green eyes. He applied the greasepaint from memory, for he intimately knew every line of Joker's face. When he finished, he dampened his hair and combed it back before placing the wig on his head. Eventually he'd dye his own hair. He hadn't planned on Joker making an appearance until after Fleck was released from Arkham, and no matter how much Lony wanted to fully inhabit his new persona, he still had to play the part of the dedicated psychiatrist.

He stripped slowly, savoring every moment of his becoming. Standing naked in front of the cracked mirror, Joker spread his arms wide and smiled. He dressed in a suit of royal purple--he preferred it to Fleck's red and yellow second-hand-store ensemble.

With hands concealed by purple gloves, Lony adjusted his acid-shooting flower in his lapel. It was a yellow and red flower. He allowed at least that small tribute to Fleck. After pocketing his favorite deck of cards, he made his way to the room where Sausage was just starting to wake.

The orderly groaned and rolled his head. "What the fuck?" He opened his bleary eyes and squinted in Joker's direction. "Fl. . .Fleck? This can't be--"

"I'm Joker." Smiling, he approached to stare into Sam's face, though not yet close enough to receive the full force of his infamous breath. "Never think of me as anyone but Joker."

Sausage looked confused and then enraged. He tried to leap out of bed, but the chains held him fast.

"Let me the fuck out of here you crazy motherfucker!"

"It's okay, Sam. Yell all you want. No one can hear you down here. Hey!! We're down here!!! Come help Sausage Breath!!" Joker bellowed. At Sam's horrified, hopeless look, Joker grinned broader than ever. "See? We're all alone. No one will interrupt our game."

"You're not Fleck."

"Ah ha! Just catching on are we?"

"Doc. . .Doctor Seil?"

Snarling, Joker wrapped his hand around Sausage's throat and squeezed. "I told you my name. Say it."

"Doc--"

"Say it!"

"J. . .Joker."

Drawing a deep, cleansing breath, Joker released the orderly and stepped back, taking a moment to calm his racing heart. He couldn't let it happen too fast. He'd craved this for far too long to hurry.

"What are you going to do with me?" Sausage asked.

"We're going to play a game. I love games. Do you love games?"

"No, I don't fucking love games." Sausage yanked on his bonds again. "When I get out of these, I'm going to fuck you up, you crazy bastard."

"You're not getting out of them, Sausage."

"Don't call me that!"

"Does that bother you?" Joker tilted his head slightly to the side. "Interesting. Is it possible that you treat others with such malice because you feel left out? Shunned? Unloved?"

"You really are crazy."

"Of course. Who else would work at Arkham? We're all crazy, just some of us more than others." Joker tugged the deck of cards out of his pocket and held them up. "Aren't they beautiful? This is my favorite deck. I designed it myself." He wheeled a rusted metal table closer to Sausage's bedside and spread the cards, face-down, on it. "Do you remember how you asked if I'm a history buff? I've delved deeply into the study of certain subjects. Torture, for instance, especially tortures concealed as therapies that were once used in places like this." Joker glanced around. "Old Arkham. They had lots of exciting treatments like bloodletting and ice baths."

"Doc, whatever you're thinking about doing, please don't," Sausage pleaded.

"Of course I have to do it. You of all people should understand, Sam. Remember all the fun you had with the patients at Arkham? Taunting them. Physically abusing them." Joker stepped closer and grasped a handful of Sausages hair so hard that the orderly's eyes watered. "Turning them against each other."

"I didn't--"

"Oh you did. It's all on camera, but no one bothered to do anything about it. Until now."

"Fucking honest, I didn't--"

"Yeti."

Sausage opened his mouth to defend himself, but staring into Joker's eyes, he lost hope.

Joker released his hair and returned to the cards. Grinning, he said, "Would you like to pick one?"

"Fuck no."

"All right. I'll pick for you." He selected a card and laughed. "Oh, this is a good one to start with! Each one of these cards, Sausage, is an old technique and/or a form of torture. Some of them are literally medieval. Let's see how many we can get through."

"No, doc. Fucking don't do this!"

Grinning, Joker left only to return with a radio that he turned up to full volume.

"Ah. _Another One Bites the Dust._ This is one of my favorite songs." Joker chuckled and danced his way toward Sausage.

At least the music was loud enough to nearly drown out the orderly's screams.

* * *

Still dancing to the radio in his hand, Lony hip thrusted his way to the washroom. He placed the radio on the edge of the rust-stained sink and shrugged off his bloody suit jacket, hanging it on the door handle. His sweat-drenched shirt and vest clung to him, and he shivered in the cold air. It felt good. Not as good as slaughtering Sausage, but it let him know he could still feel something. It was hard, after experiencing such intense emotions and sharing them with a victim.

This session had both exhausted and invigorated him. He couldn't quite decide whether to consider it Joker's first true kill, or his first true kill as Joker.

Either way, it was a milestone.

He'd told Arthur that he'd never see Sausage Breath again for as long as he was in Arkham. Now he'd kept the promise.

"See, you can have fun and be noble at the same time," Joker said to his reflection before he tugged off the wig and scrubbed a hand through his wet hair. His greasepaint was quite smeared now, runny with his own sweat and Sausage's blood and bile. The blue diamonds ran down his cheeks and his red smile had faded to pink.

Sighing, he wiped off the paint, allowing himself to slowly reinhabit the character of Dr. Lony Seil.

No wonder Arthur found it hard to separate himself from the beautiful force of nature that was Joker, but Fleck didn't truly have the stomach for it. Fleck still longed for love and had the capacity for compassion. Joker was better than that, and Lony would see that he got the life he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! I hope yours are safe and fun!


	41. Rich Boy and the Guttersnipe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a power struggle in the staff room as Arthur and Willard finally go all the way. Afterward, Willard tries to get Joker to give up control of the unit, but the Prince isn't ready to surrender his kingdom.
> 
> Warning: This chapter is mostly smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, RavenPoe, for suggesting Crazy Train. :-)

Staring into Willard's piercing blue eyes, Arthur counted five heartbeats before Willard pulled off his shirt, revealing his lean, broad-shouldered body. With a sigh of pleasure, Arthur leaned down and touched his lips to his lover's chest. The dark hairs tickled, and Arthur smiled. Closing his eyes, he dropped several more kisses before he straightened again, leaving Willard's pale skin marked by lipstick red imprints.

Cupping Willard's angular cheek, he kissed him while sliding a hand down the front of his hospital pants. Arthur hummed softly. Willard was hard already, just like Arthur. They could do this fast, and probably should, considering security could take back the unit at any moment. Still, they had waited so long to do this right that Arthur didn’t want to hurry. He'd always hated rushing anything sexual. Even when he masturbated, he preferred to take it slow--a nice gentle buildup to the ultimate explosion.

Willard closed his eyes and arched his neck, thrusting into Arthur's stroking hand. His fine lips were smeared with Joker's lipstick, and somehow that turned Arthur on even more. He shoved Willard's pants down to his ankles. Staring at Arthur with a strange expression in his eyes, Willard stepped out of his pants and kicked off his shoes. He lightly grasped the back of Arthur's neck and kissed him again, backing him toward the table. Though only a couple of inches taller than Arthur, it seemed like more, which was odd since at times Willard seemed as small and timid as his rodent friends.

When Arthur's ass nudged the table, panic almost overcame him, but it lasted just a moment before Joker swiftly grabbed Willard, shoved the shit from the staff's lockers off the table, and pushed his lover onto it.

Willard glared at Joker over his shoulder. "What makes you think that you're the one who's going to make the rules?"

Joker laughed. "Because this is my party. You didn't help set it up."

"It might be your party, but this is between us." Willard turned onto his back. He wrapped his legs around Arthur who fell on top of him. They lay chest-to-chest, their breath mingling. Arthur tried to pull back, but Willard's legs tightened. Arthur couldn't get away. Part of him wanted to end this, even though he'd dreamed about being with Willard almost since the moment he'd seen him through the rat hole. Another part of him wanted more, but he had to make the rules first.

Joker splayed his hand on Willard's chest. His heart pounded against Joker's palm. He slid his hand up to curl it around Willard's neck, though he didn't apply any real pressure. Willard's stunning blue gaze locked on his.

"Do you want this or not?" Arthur asked.

"Elaborate on exactly what 'this' is."

"Do you want me to fuck you, rich boy? I can't be plainer than that."

"Do you mean penetrate me, guttersnipe?"

Joker rolled his eyes. "Oh come on. You know that's what I mean. I can't believe you're being nitpicky at a time like this."

"What about if _I_ want to penetrate _you_?"

Something inside Arthur momentarily froze.

Willard narrowed his eyes. "You're afraid."

Snarling, Joker tightened his hand on Willard's throat. "I'm not afraid of anything anymore."

"It's all right." Willard gently curled his fingers around Joker's wrist and stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. "Let's do this, if you still want to."

Arthur's stomach muscles relaxed. Strange that he hadn't even realized they'd tensed. He smiled, loosening his hold to caress Willard's throat. "I want to."

Before rolling onto his stomach, Willard kissed Arthur again. "I want you to know that I'm not doing this because you're dominating me. It's because I'm ready for it."

His heart thumping fiercely, Joker leaned over Willard, his suited chest pressed to his lover's naked back. "I want you to have fun. Have you ever--"

"Never."

"Me either, but I've read a lot about it."

"Dirty magazines, no doubt."

Joker grinned. "Who says they're worthless?" He kissed Willard's cheek and neck, savoring the feel and scent of his skin. The roughness of the day's growth of beard teased Arthur's lips. All the while, Arthur ran his hands over Willard, over his shoulders and down his lean sides. He trailed his lips down Willard's spine. Reaching his firm ass, he kneaded and kissed it.

Moistening his lips and drawing excited breaths, Joker pressed a fingertip to Willard's sphincter. It tightened and Willard went still, his harsh breathing mingling with Arthur's. Most of the lubricant had rubbed off Arthur's fingers. Willard's passage was snug--even tighter than Hunter's pussy, and way drier. He withdrew his finger and reached for more lubricant. He slid his fingers into Willard again and explored slowly.

Willard tensed and moaned into his arm, his eyes closed.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "Is this good or bad?"

"Just keep going," Willard murmured.

Letting his gaze drift to his working hand, Arthur continued stroking and stretching, learning Willard's insides as well as he’d come to know the rest of his body. Despite his own arousal, his rock hard erection and the tightness in his balls, he didn't want to stop touching Willard. Music throbbed outside the closed door _\--Bad to the_ _Bone_. Muffled conversation, shouts, and laughter of the other patients droned on, and Arthur lost track of time.

"Will you do it already?" Willard panted, straining to look over his shoulder at Arthur. Damp black hair clung to his forehead and cheek. Joker brushed it back and kissed Willard's temple. He stepped back just enough to remove his trousers. He stroked his cock with his left hand while fingering Willard with his right. When he entered Willard, he felt a little light-headed, like this couldn't possibly be real. He'd felt that way with Hunter, too. Moments like this were part of Arthur's fantasies.

Willard's groans and the tension in his warm body was like a punch in Arthur's heart. This wasn't a hallucination. It wasn't a dream. It was the real fucking thing.

Knowing that both frightened and aroused him. His belly clenched and he grasped Willard's narrow hips, pumping faster and harder. It crossed his mind that maybe he was hurting Willard, and he slowed down a little.

"Still okay?" Arthur panted.

Willard garbled something, but he reached between his body and the table to stroke himself. No fucking way. Joker said he wanted Willard to have fun, and he'd be the one to give it to him. Still working his hips, he reached around and momentarily battled Willard for control of his pleasure. Willard didn't put up much of a fight. When Arthur stroked Willard's erection to the same rhythm as he thrust into his tight, straining body, Willard let out another moan. This time there was no question that it was one of raw pleasure.

The sound of Willard's voice pushed Joker even closer to the edge. Sweat trickled down his temples and back, tickling him beneath his suit. He laughed, gasped, and moaned, blinded by lust. Willard came in Joker's hand, and Arthur released him to grip his hips tight. A few more thrusts and Joker came with a piercing laugh-scream.

He and Willard slid off the table and onto the floor where they lay in a tangled, panting heap.

This felt almost like a dream again, except the press of Willard's warm, damp skin against Arthur's--the musky scent of it--told him it was real. The soft puff of his lover's breath against his cheek wasn't an illusion. _Crazy Train_ vibrated through the unit, and Joker laughed softly, raising himself on his elbow to gaze at Willard. His eyes were closed, an expression of bliss on his handsome face. Trailing a fingertip along Willard's cheek, Joker grinned. "Are you still upset that I took over the unit?"

Willard opened his eyes to meet Joker's gaze. "Yes. You'll probably end up back in isolation."

"But I'll have nice memories while I'm in there."

"Arthur, you have to end this."

"It'll end soon enough." He reached for his pants and pulled them on while Willard stood and dressed. He moved slower than usual, and Arthur felt a pang of--not regret--empathy, maybe. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Willard walked to the sink and washed his hands.

Arthur joined him and did the same. Staring at Willard's strong profile, he smiled and slid his wet, soapy hands over his lover's.

Willard entwined his fingers with Arthur's and asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"Fix my face." Joker tugged away from Willard and wiped his hands with a paper towel. He picked up the hand mirror from the floor and gazed into it. "And then we'll see about Yeti."

"Why don't you just leave him in his room?" Willard wiped his hands, too.

"Because unless he and I come to an understanding, one of us will probably end up dead." Arthur blotted his sweat-damp face with another paper towel before drawing fresh diamonds around his eyes.

"Are you going to kill him?"

"That depends. Don't worry your beautiful head about it."

"Don't use that condescending tone with me."

Surprised, Joker raised an eyebrow. "I was trying to be comforting. I guess no good deed goes unpunished."

"How is it going to comfort me if you keep getting yourself thrown into isolation and ruin any chance you might have of getting--"

"Out? Sometimes I think you were right about that in the first place, that I'm never getting out of here, and if I do, Dr. Seil will just fuck me over."

Willard's hands balled into fists. His eyes caught fire and when he spoke, his voice was shrill with scarcely-controlled anger. "You're just realizing that _now_? Then why have we spent all these months cooperating with Only Lies?"

"Will you stop getting so worked up? Everything might go as planned, or it might not. Who knows? That's life, right? _That's what the people say. You're riding high in April. Shot down in May_ ," Joker sang. "Fuck, I love that song."

"Arthur, I. . .Do you realize the phone has been ringing non-stop for the past five minutes?"

Joker smiled. "Maybe you should answer it."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because I have shit to take care of." Joker tossed the makeup aside, but pocketed the mirror. He lit a cigarette and sauntered out of the staff room, leaving Willard fuming.


	42. Just One Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince has a throne and Yeti on a leash. Hunter attempts to talk him into giving up his reign, but he's more interested in dancing. Dr. Seil misses most of the action and is furious with his star patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, RavenPoe, for the song recommendation-The Joker. :-)

Hunter was in the laundry room when she heard that the patients had taken over Arthur and Willard's unit.  
  
Toni delivered the news, and no sooner had Hunter heard than she literally dropped a handful of towels and ran for the elevator, but security waited outside and wouldn't allow her to board. It was the same at the stairs.  
  
"Hunter!" Nurse Doreen, looking pale and frazzled, approached.  
  
"Doreen, what's going on? Has anyone been hurt?"  
  
"Everyone was relatively fine when he released me," Doreen said.  
  
She and Hunter locked gazes. In her gut, Hunter knew who had caused this chaos, but some part of her needed confirmation. "Arthur?"  
  
"He's gone, Hunter." Sympathy shone in Doreen's eyes.  
  
Panic overwhelmed Hunter. Gone? Was he dead? He couldn't be dead! Her pulse raced so fast that she nearly blacked out. "What do you mean gone?"  
  
"I mean I don't think he even knows the difference between himself and Joker anymore."  
  
Relief washed over Hunter, and she released a pent-up breath. "That's because there was never a difference."  
  
Doreen looked momentarily haughty and started to protest. Then she shook her head and lowered her gaze. "Maybe that's true."  
  
"Has security gone in yet?"  
  
"No. Arthur has the rest of the staff held hostage, so they need to be careful. They're trying to reach Dr. Seil for advice. If they can't get a hold of him, they'll have no choice but to use force. Anything could be happening up there right now. I'm lucky to have gotten out so easily."  
  
"He wouldn't hurt you, Doreen."  
  
"That's what my mother and I thought about my father."  
  
Hunter knew better than to argue about that. Doreen had a legitimate point. Instead Hunter touched her arm and said, "If you talk to security, they might let me in. Maybe I can get Arthur to come out. Is Willard--"  
  
"He's okay, and from what I observed, he's trying to convince Arthur to give it up, too, but he's not paying attention."  
  
"Will you come with me, please?"  
  
"All right."  
  
It took several minutes for them to find the person in charge of security. He and several guards stood outside the entrance to the unit. Music throbbed and voices echoed from behind the heavy, locked doors. Doreen introduced the security chief as Pete, and then she quickly explained about Hunter's connection to the patients and her request to enter. Pete adamantly refused to allow Hunter to interfere in any way.  
  
"Interfere with what, exactly?" Hunter asked, staring the tall, well-muscled man in the eye. "You're still out here, and the patients have locked the doors from inside. They have hostages and you haven't yet reached Dr. Seil. I've been part of Arthur's treatment--"  
  
"By what's happened here, that's not something to brag about," Pete said with a pointed look.  
  
"Nurse Doreen said everyone is safe so far. If Arthur wanted to hurt people, he would have done it by now."  
  
"What makes you think he hasn't? Besides, if we let you in there, he'll have another hostage. That's something we need to avoid."  
  
"There's a chance he might listen to her," Doreen said. "I agree, it's risky, but the longer Arthur has control in there, the harder it will be to take it from him."  
  
"Taking it from him would be easy."  
  
"Easy without getting someone hurt or killed?"  
  
"Nurse, you know we have protocol--"  
  
"I'm volunteering," Hunter pressed. "I understand the risk, and I'm willing to take it. I know I can get through to Arthur. What is the worst that can happen? If he doesn't listen to me, then your situation hasn't really changed, but if he does listen to me, this will be a lot less messy." Especially for Arthur, and that was what she really gave a shit about, not that she could come out and say it.  
  
Pete glanced away from her for a moment, and then he said, "Okay. I'll give you a chance. We've spoken to another patient, Willard Stiles, on the phone. He's tried to get Fleck to talk to us, but he refuses."  
  
Relief washed over Hunter. At least she knew Willard was okay. Not that she thought Arthur would harm him, but with every patient in the unit out of control, anything could happen.  
  
"I've been working with Willard, too," Hunter said.  
  
"We'll call you in ten minutes. If you don't pick up, and if we still haven't heard from Dr. Seil, I'll have no choice but to move forward."  
  
That didn't sound good for anyone.  
  
Pete used the phone just outside the doors to call into the unit. Since the doors were always locked, it was protocol for anyone entering to call first. Hunter waited, her heart beating quickly and her stomach clenched.  
  
"Hello, Willard? It's Pete again. How are you doing in there?"  
  
"Let me talk to him." Hunter reached for the phone. Pete reluctantly handed it to her. "Hey, Willard, it's me, Hunter. Is Arthur around?"  
  
"Hunter, this isn't good," Willard said, his voice edgy. "Arthur has commandeered the entire unit, and he won't come to the phone."  
  
"I'm outside the door of the north exit. Let me in."  
  
"Are you alone? Not that I wouldn't let the guards in, but if I do, I'm afraid some of the staff members will be in a deadly situation."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Arthur has patients watching them--and they have weapons. Pete knows about it. That's why he hasn't entered yet."  
  
"Can you let me inside?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then do it, please."  
  
"It'll be my pleasure."  
  
Hunter hung up the phone. Glancing at Pete, Doreen, and the other guards, she said, "I think you guys should back up."  
  
They did as she suggested, and a moment later, Willard opened the door. His blue gaze darted from Hunter to the others and back again. He grasped her hand and tugged her inside. The door locked automatically behind them.  
  
"Where is Arthur?"  
  
They shared a poignant look before he said, "Follow me."  
  
Hunter could scarcely believe how much a unit could change in less than half an hour. Litter scattered across the hallways. Some patients wandered aimlessly while other enjoyed their little taste of freedom, eating and drinking forbidden snacks, such as sodas, candy, and coffee, as well as smoking cigarettes stolen from the staff room. A glance into other rooms proved that not all the patients were happy with the situation. Some lay curled in bed while others cowered in corners. Loud music, noise, and lack of order wasn't the best atmosphere for anyone here, but it affected some more than others. As much as Hunter loved Arthur, she couldn't help being a little angry at him for adding to the pain of some patients.  
  
She reminded herself that he was a patient, too, and not always in control of himself.  
  
And she was planning a life with him. What the fuck did that say about her? She couldn't dwell on it. She already loved Arthur and Willard too much to walk away from them.  
  
As they neared the rec room, the music grew louder. When they stepped inside, _One Night in Bangkok_ throbbed in her ears. Most of the furniture in the spacious room had been pushed to the side, except for a table at the back. A comfortable leather chair from one of the therapy rooms rested on top of the table, and Joker lounged in it. His slender torso leaned against the back of it, and a long, sinewy leg draped over its arm. He took a drag from his cigarette and blew smoke rings toward the ceiling. Yeti, his face glistening with blood and the front of his blue hospital-issue clothes stained with it, sat dog-like on the floor. One end of an electrical cord wound around his neck, and the other end was fastened to the leg of a table permanently attached to the floor.  
  
"Arthur?" Hunter said.  
  
His glittering green gaze snapped toward her, and he smiled. "Thank you for coming, my love."  
  
"Arthur, what's going on?" Hunter approached while Willard lurked in the doorway.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
She paused before getting any closer and glanced at Yeti.  
  
"Don't worry about him." Joker waved his hand. "He's learned to be a good dog. Right, Yeti?"  
  
The giant looked at Arthur with wary eyes and nodded. He cowered a bit when Joker hopped off the table.  
  
"Is anyone beside Yeti injured?" Hunter asked.  
  
He giggled. "What do you think?"  
  
"I think you're hurting yourself."  
  
"Me? I feel good." He dropped his cigarette and squashed it beneath the heel of a polished black shoe. She tried to ignore how attractive he looked in the black suit and purple shirt. Even the clown makeup suited him somehow. Of course no matter what Only Lies liked to think, there would only ever be one real Joker.  
  
"You might feel good now, but you're going to suffer for this later."  
  
He shrugged. "So? Nothing worth having comes easy, isn't that what they say?"  
  
"You're hurting other people, too, Arthur. Some of these patients are really scared."  
  
"They'll get over it."  
  
"I told you. It's like talking to a brick wall," Willard said.  
  
"You know this isn't going to last. One way or another, they're going to take back the unit," Hunter went on, still staring at Joker.  
  
"I know."  
  
"You can walk out with me right now."  
  
His smile faded and he averted his gaze. "I'm not ready yet."  
  
"Dr. Seil--"  
  
"Fuck Dr. Seil."  
  
"Please don't let this get messy."  
  
"Everything is better when it's messy."  
  
"I know it's not fair that you were stuck in isolation--"  
  
"Oh, I'm heading right back."  
  
"Probably."  
  
"It doesn't matter. Being good never got me a fucking thing. Being bad is more fun."  
  
She stepped closer and touched his face. "This isn't necessarily bad. It's just--"  
  
"Chaotic," Willard said, his blue eyes flashing.  
  
"Don't fucking pretend you don't love chaos, sweetheart," Joker snapped at Willard. "We know what you did to get in here."  
  
"I had a good reason. You had no reason for this!" Willard's shrill voice overpowered the loud music.  
  
Arthur lit another cigarette and took a long drag. He shrugged, smiling faintly. "I don't need a reason."  
  
"If you do things like this, even Dr. Seil won't be able to get you out of here." Hunter slid her fingers through his hair and stared into his eyes. Sometimes she could sense what he was feeling, and other times not so much. He'd been relatively stable on his meds, and there was nothing in his expression to indicate otherwise. Maybe when he'd started this crazy plan, he'd been out of control, but at this moment, he knew exactly what he was doing. He was angry and determined to rebel against the unfairness of his life. Dr. Seil should have realized that before he stuck Arthur in isolation. He should have known by now that wasn't the way to reach him.  
  
But who said Only Lies _wanted_ to reach him? He was crazier than half the patients in Arkham. Maybe Doreen was right, and Hunter shouldn't have gone along with any of this. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Arthur, Willard, or any patient. Sometimes she wondered if she should be in here, too. At times she felt like she needed help. She'd tried to get it in the past, especially when it affected her court case. Sometimes she was just so damn confused. The only thing she knew for certain was that she loved Arthur and Willard.  
  
"Maybe he won't even let me out." Arthur took another drag on his cigarette. "Maybe Willard was right."  
  
"And he waited until now to tell us this!" Willard shrieked, glaring at Joker. "Sometimes I could just kill you!"

"You want a piece of me, sweetheart?" Arthur tossed Willard a sassy look. "Come get it."  
  
"That's enough, both of you." Hunter glanced from one to the other. "We're all supposed to be on the same side."  
  
"I just don't understand why he waited until now to express his doubts." Willard sounded a little calmer. "I mean, just when I was starting to believe that Only Lies might be telling the truth. He's teaching Arthur everything he promised, so he's probably going to let us out."  
  
"And then try to kill us." Arthur walked to the wall and ground the cigarette into it before dropping it on the floor. "All I know is, I'm not busting my balls learning all this stuff from Dr. Lies just to let him kill me later."  
  
"I agree," Hunter said.  
  
"In here, he'll be able to do anything he wants to you," Willard said softly. "But maybe out there, we can do something to get away from him. We'll never have the chance, though, if you keep acting like a lunatic."  
  
Joker laughed, loud and piercing. "You think I'm acting?"  
  
Hunter and Willard stared at him, their expressions serious. It hurt to see Arthur like this. Hunter knew he was frustrated and in pain, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Because of this takeover, he'd be watched even more closely. Maybe they'd even keep him in restraints again.  
  
"Arthur, please--"  
  
"Hunter." He gently cupped her chin and kissed her mouth. He tasted like lipstick and smoke. "I'll walk out of here with you, but I want you to do something first."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dance with me. Just one dance?"  
  
His expression and the softness of his voice, tugged at her heart. If only she could walk out of this fucking hospital with her guys, take them home, and try to help them heal. That was beyond her control, but she could do this for Arthur, at least.

"Listen!" Arthur held up a finger and smiled, blinking slowly, seductively and moving his shoulders to the rhythm of _The Joker_. He stepped closer to Hunter and gazed into her eyes. "This song. It has to be a sign. Dance with me."  
  
How could she refuse? Still, she glanced at her watch. Pete would call soon and expect her to answer. "Okay. One dance."  
  
Grinning, Joker stepped toward her, took her hand, and slid an arm around her back. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, feeling its hardness through the suit jacket.  
  
Those green eyes, thickly-lashed and breathtakingly emotional, gazed into hers. He smiled and sang softly to her, " _I'm a joker. I'm a smoker. I'm a_. . ."  
  
He drew Hunter even closer and she rested her head on his shoulder. Part of her wished they could stay like this forever, but the song ended all too quickly.  
  
"Are you ready?" Willard asked.  
  
"No." Joker smiled. "But I'm a clown of my word." He kissed Hunter's hand and headed for the door, pausing to kiss Willard's mouth before he strode out.  
  
Again Hunter and Willard exchanged glances and followed Arthur to Amanda's room where he approached the two patients who held the staff members hostage. The guy, Larry, held an electric drill. Amanda carried a knife. Wonderful. She'd been sent here for stabbing her brother.

Hunter tensed. This could get ugly fast.   
  
"Give those to me." Arthur held out his hands for the weapons.  
  
"Why?" Larry demanded. Tall and rough-looking, he glowered at Arthur.  
  
"Because I have a better plan." Arthur stepped into Larry's personal space and grasped the drill. Practically growling, Larry refused to release it.

Hunter tensed, ready to pounce if Larry or Amanda attacked Arthur.

Joker tilted his head up so that his cold green gaze met Larry's. After a moment, Larry let go of the drill. Luckily, Amanda didn't hesitate to hand her knife to Joker. She smiled at him and he lightly patted her cheek.  
  
"This way." Joker beckoned them. He gave the weapons to Hunter and winked. "See, nothing to it."  
  
Right. Nothing except she nearly had a mild heart attack. 

Hunter led the way to the doors just as the phone rang. Pete, no doubt.  
  
Willard unlocked the doors and the security team burst inside. Three guards jumped on Arthur.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" Dr. Seil bellowed, striding through the doors.  
  
Twisted in the guards' arms, Joker grinned. "Hello, Dr. Seil."  
  
Words couldn't describe the fury that shone in the doctor's green eyes. His fists clenched, and for a moment Hunter thought he might try to strangle Arthur. He covered his rage quickly, however.  
  
"See that Mr. Fleck is sedated and brought to isolation."  
  
Hunter closed her eyes briefly, her hands tight on the weapons. She'd love to plunge the knife into Dr. Seil. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and she opened her eyes to meet his gaze.  
  
"You did well, Hunter. Give these to me." Dr. Seil gripped the drill and the knife.  
  
Hunter held onto them momentarily, and the doctor smirked, as if he could read her thoughts and found her fury amusing. She gave him the weapons and drew a deep breath.  
  
"Have a seat and a drink of water," the doctor continued. "We'll talk a little later, once the patients are settled."  
  
"What are you going to do to them?"  
  
"They won't be blamed. They're sick, after all. I've heard that you and Willard did your best to calm Arthur during this episode. That was wise. Now I'll see that they're properly cared for."  
  
"Hunter." Willard approached and offered her a slight smile. "We'll be fine now."  
  
Dr. Seil took Willard's arm. "Let's go back to your room."  
  
With a last glance at Hunter, Willard jerked away from the doctor, but followed him quietly.  
  
Hunter didn't want to leave. She wanted to help her guys, but she knew that Only Lies wouldn't allow her to be with them right now, especially not Arthur. The doctor's rage, his coldness, his outright insanity terrified her. What if he hurt Arthur because of this? If he did, she'd find a way to kill him, even if it meant prison or life in Arkham.  
  
Maybe she was headed in that direction anyway.  



	43. Willard's Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Willard's last day at Arkham, and for him and Arthur, it's bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting so late!

_Six Weeks Later_

Willard awoke before dawn. Sensations of dread, uneasiness, and excitement swelled inside him, making it impossible to fall back to sleep, so he rose, relieved himself, and started his morning exercise routine.

After finishing his last set of sit-ups, he stretched out on his back and turned his head toward the rat hole. A thrill darted through him. Arthur stared back at him, his emotional green gaze reaching into Willard's soul, just like it had the first time they'd met. Back then, he'd been so certain that he would never even speak to Arthur, let alone love him.

A pang of sadness made his throat tighten when he realized this was the last day they would ever gaze at each other through the rat hole.

Tomorrow morning, Willard would leave Arkham and go to live with Hunter and Dr. Seil in the house where he had grown up. If not for Hunter, he wasn't sure he'd be able to face this alone. He didn't know when or how he'd come to depend on her and Arthur, or when he'd fallen in love with them. They were his family now, and they wouldn't hurt or abandon him--at least not intentionally.

"You're beautiful," Arthur told Willard. "I'm going to miss watching you."

Willard smiled slightly and rolled closer to the wall. He reached through the hole to caress Arthur's stubbled cheek.

"Are you going to miss me?" Arthur asked.

"You know I will, but it won't be forever."

"It'll feel like forever."

Willard didn't reply, because it was true.

Arthur took Willard's hand and for several moments, they stared at each other before Willard said, "They'll be getting us for showers and breakfast soon."

"I know." Arthur sighed. He kissed the back of Willard's hand and then he released it.

A short time later, they sat together in the cafeteria, just like every other morning since Willard had arrived. It was still hard to believe this was the last day. Willard should be happier about leaving, but not knowing when he'd see Arthur again dampened whatever joy he might feel.

Once patients were released from Arkham, they generally weren't allowed to come back to visit other patients. Willard and Hunter had both talked to Dr. Seil about it, and he said he would consider allowing Willard to visit Arthur, but he hadn't given a definite answer yet. Considering the completely unorthodox methods he'd used to treat both men, there was no sensible reason for keeping Willard and Arthur apart. Only Lies was either doing it to be deliberately cruel, or as some kind of leverage to keep Arthur under control.

Not that Arthur had been out of control since the incident several weeks ago when he had taken over the unit. Dr. Seil had been livid. Oh, he'd appeared outwardly calm, but Willard and Hunter had both seen the rage in his eyes--eyes that were much like Arthur's in color and shape, but with an expression as far removed from his younger brother's as the desert was from the sea.

After the incident, Dr. Seil had locked Arthur in isolation for two days. When Arthur returned, looking as stubborn as ever, he and Dr. Seil had gone on as if nothing had happened. No amount of poking and prodding from Willard or Hunter could entice Arthur to discuss what had happened between him and Only Lies, but the two seemed to have called a truce. Arthur behaved, and Dr. Seil didn't attempt to curb the Joker in him. So their plan continued as usual, but that did nothing to ease Willard's concerns about their future.

Only Lies could easily use threats of harm to manipulate the trio now that they were apart. Arthur had no way of knowing what was happening outside of Arkham, and Willard and Hunter had no way of knowing what was going on with him. Hunter had a little more access to Arthur, since she planned to continue working at Arkham until he was released. At least she'd still get to see him every day. She would at least know if he was being mistreated--not that there was much she could do about it. Still, it was better than nothing.

Hunter no longer worked nights. Only Lies had arranged for her to have a daytime schedule, weekdays only, so that she could spend time with Willard, who would be starting his new job on Monday morning. Only Lies had arranged for that, too. At least Willard would be working in a library, though not as a librarian. He was thoroughly qualified, but securing such a position upon release from Arkham wasn't possible. It was understandable, but frustrating nonetheless.

He would be a library assistant at the Gotham Public Library.

Willard swallowed a spoonful of that dreadful Arkham oatmeal. At least he wouldn't have to eat it anymore. He noted that Arthur wasn't eating, but toying with a piece of dry toast.

"Not hungry?" Willard asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No."

Though still thin, Arthur wasn't as skeletal as he used to be. Regular food and exercise as well as quitting smoking had made obvious changes in him. If nothing else good came out of their dealings with Only Lies, at least Arthur's overall health had improved.

"Now more than ever you need to keep your strength up," Willard reminded him. "Hunter and I want you to join us as soon as possible."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Like it's my choice either way."

"Believe it or not, you have a say in your own life."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Right."

Hunter approached and joined them at the table. "Hey, guys. Thought I'd stop by before punching in. How's it going?"

"Just peachy," Arthur said, sarcasm in his voice.

"How's Aristotle?" Willard asked. The white rat hadn't gone with the others Hunter had smuggled out. He'd remained with Willard until several days ago when Hunter had hidden him in her pocket and taken him home.

"He was playing in his cage when I left for work." Unlike the other rats hiding in the shed behind Willard's house, Aristotle would live with them. Only Lies knew about the rat. Luckily, he still had no idea about the others.

"Good. I miss him."

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. "You miss the rat. What about me? I'm going to be stuck here for months, maybe longer, without you guys."

"I'll be here every day," Hunter promised. "Even on my days off, I'll come during visiting hours."

"I know." Arthur smiled at her. "You're always sweet to me, unlike _some people_." He slanted his gaze toward Willard.

"I'm not going to make a big deal out of this," Willard said. "It's not forever. I'm going to focus on the future. We will be together again, Arthur."

"And in the meantime, I'm stuck here in Loonyville while you, Hunter, and Aristotle are living the good life."

"The good life, as a library assistant, living under the careful watch of Only Lies."

"What about me?" Hunter glanced at Willard. "I'll be there, too."

"You guys get to share a bed. Agrhhh." Arthur moaned, covering his face with his hands. "All I can do is dream about it."

"Just remember we're waiting for you." Hunter rubbed his back briefly.

Willard wished Arthur would just stop talking about their separation. He wanted to enjoy their last day together as much as possible.

Soon Hunter left to start work. Willard's day continued with its usual routine, except that today was the _last time_ for any of it.

During exercise hour, he and Arthur walked and talked in the yard. Willard remembered when he'd first met Arthur, how he'd goaded Willard out here in this very yard and Willard had kneed him onto his back. Arthur had enraged him so much back then. At times he still riled him, but somehow their spats aroused Willard, too.

Later in the rec room, Arthur asked Willard to pose for a sketch. He always took his drawing and journaling seriously, even when he incorporated humor into it, but he sketched with particular intensity today.

When he finished, Willard studied it carefully. He wasn't as handsome as in any of Arthur's sketches--or maybe that's how he truly looked to Arthur.

During visiting hours, Hunter sat with them in the rec room. Arthur was unusually quiet. This combined with his lack of appetite for all three meals today concerned Willard.

Finally, the door to Willard's room locked behind him for the last time. Instead of going to bed, he stretched out on the floor by the rat hole to find Arthur already there.

"I really didn't want to take the fucking sleeping pill tonight," Arthur said bitterly. His eyes shone with moisture. "This is our last night."

"No it's not." Willard reached through the hole to cup Arthur's cheek. "We'll have other nights. It's not forever."

"What if it is?" Arthur took Willard's hand. "What if Dr. Seil is lying? Wh. . .wh. . .Ha. Ha, ha!" Arthur burst into laughter. Tears leaked from his eyes and his grip on Willard's hand tightened almost painfully.

Willard squeezed his hand back. "Arthur, it's going to be all right. Everything will work out. You'll see."

Arthur nodded, choking a little. His laughter died down.

He and Willard gazed at each other until Arthur's eyes started to close. The sleeping pill had kicked in.

"Arthur, go to bed."

"Not yet," he said in a hushed, sleepy voice. He forced his eyes open. "I want to look at you for a little longer."

Willard swallowed past thickness in his throat. He reminded himself that this should be a happy time. He was being released, and soon Arthur would follow. Not only that, Hunter and Aristotle were waiting for him.

"It'll be fine," Willard said softly.

Arthur nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Please go to bed," Willard said.

"I love you."

"I. . .I love you, too," Willard said. Though it was true, the words felt awkward on his lips. Until meeting Arthur and Hunter, he'd tried to keep his emotions under control. Still, at times anger and sadness had exploded past his quiet veneer. Love had always been harder to express.

Arthur smiled faintly. He kissed Willard's hand, his firm but soft lips leaving a tingling impression on Willard's skin. Then he released him and disappeared from the rat hole. After a moment, Willard rose and climbed into bed, too, though it was a long time before he fell asleep.

In the morning, Willard woke early. He and Arthur had one last conversation through the rat hole before Dr. Seil came to help him through the release procedure.

"Would you like to say goodbye to Arthur?" Dr Seil asked.

"Yes, please."

They entered Arthur's room where Arthur lay on the bed. He rose quickly upon seeing Willard. His green eyes wide, Arthur stepped toward him.

The reached for each other simultaneously. Arthur's wiry arms wrapped around Willard in an almost painfully tight embrace, but he didn't care. He held Arthur just as tightly, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of Arthur's soft, wavy hair. He tried to imprint on his mind how it tickled his cheek, how Arthur's thin, strong body felt in his arms. He was warm. Solid. Willard didn't want to let him go.

From where Only Lies loomed in the doorway, he cleared his throat loudly and said, "It's time to go, Willard."

"Bye," Arthur said, stifling laughter.

"Arthur." Willard stepped back, his hands still firm on Arthur's bony shoulders. "It'll be fine."

Nodding, Arthur turned, sat on the bed, and leaned back on his elbows. His strained expression shifted to an exaggerated grin. Despite the sheen of tears, his eyes seemed to frost over.

"I'll be seeing you." Joker winked.

"Be good," Willard warned.

Rolling his eyes, Joker chuckled. "But that's so boring."

"And remember, we're waiting for you." Willard stared into those vibrant green eyes.

"Let's go," Dr. Seil said.

With a final glance at his lover, Willard left the room.

He wasn't quite sure if he was headed toward freedom, or into a worse prison than Arkham.


	44. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lony thinks back to a post-takeover conversation with Arthur, and Willard returns home.

_Six Weeks Before_

Lony sauntered toward the isolation room where Arthur had been for the past two days since the incident. Per Lony's order, he had minimal contact with anyone, including staff members.

Whenever he thought about Arthur's little escapade, Lony felt a combination of disturbing emotions--anger, admiration, and disgust. For daring to risk their plan, Lony could have cut Arthur's throat, but at the same time he admired the irreverence that gave Joker his ability to spit in the faces of people who dared attempt to control him. Yet the real Joker wouldn't have spared lives, and this weakness disgusted Lony. The real Joker would have sucked the lives out of every pathetic staff member who allowed the takeover to happen, and he definitely would have left Yeti in a lifeless, bloody heap.

The only good that had come out of the incident was that Nurse Doreen had quit. At least he wouldn't have her snooping around, looking out for Arthur's best interests and interfering with their plans.

To collect himself, Lony had left Arthur alone for two days, otherwise he might rip apart his own patient. Maybe it was a good thing that Arthur hadn't killed anyone. It meant that whether he liked it or, he was gradually releasing his hold on Joker. Despite occasional outbursts like this, he was by far the more pitiful, needy Arthur Fleck than the magnificent Joker. Most likely Willard and Hunter were to thank for that. Either way, it didn't matter. The reality was, Arthur had never truly been Joker.

Joker existed in a realm beyond any of them. He was a spirit that possessed anyone bold enough to host him. Now that spirit inhabited almost every corner and crevice of Lony's body and mind.

Unfortunately, until their plan was fully realized, he still had to depend on his conventional side at times.

Like now.

He didn't pause before entering Arthur's room.

As Lony had instructed, Arthur spent most of his time in a straightjacket. It would help him to accept his situation. Sometimes Arthur needed to be reminded who was in charge.

Arthur stopped pacing the moment Lony stepped inside. Their gazes met, and Lony knew by the look in his eyes that he still wasn't fully subdued. This might take longer and more drastic measures than he originally thought.

"Come, Arthur. Let's get you out of here for a while."

"Whatever you say, Dr. Seil." There was no missing Arthur's playful tone. So he still thought this was funny. Lony smiled at him, and Arthur grinned back.

Lony guided Arthur out of the room and down a corridor. They stepped into an elevator. Neither spoke, though he could almost sense Arthur's curiosity. Good.

The elevator dropped downward until it stopped in the basement.

Arthur looked mildly surprised when they stepped out. Lony led him down the empty corridors and into a damp, dimly-lit room filled with mops and various cleaning supplies.

"I want to make sure we can talk without being disturbed," Lony said.

"Without cameras? Why not go outside, like usual?"

"Because it's nicer outside. It's a breath of semi-fresh air, isn't it? Today I'm not here for a therapy session, Arthur, and I'm not here to bargain. I'm here to remind you that any past promises can be broken like this." He snapped his fingers in Arthur's face.

"Threats? Okay. Go ahead." Arthur giggled and leaned nonchalantly against the wall.

Lony's stomach clenched. He fucking hated feeling out of control, and Fleck was pushing him in that direction, but Fleck wasn't in charge here. Lony was. He was always in charge of everyone and everything, no matter what they liked to think.

"I know you have a tentative grasp on reality, Arthur, and it's my job to keep you grounded." Lony grasped Arthur's shoulders hard, pinning him to the wall.

A smile flirted with Arthur's lips.

Their gazes locked, and Lony said, "I'm not happy with what you did a couple of days ago. You put our plan at risk, and that was stupid."

A hint of anger flashed across Arthur's face. Not exactly what Lony was looking for.

"I'm going to make this simple, Arthur. If you ever do anything else to fuck up our plans, I'll throw you in a hole so dark and deep you'll never again see the light of day."

"I grew up tied to a fucking radiator. Thanks to you and the great therapy here in Arkham, I remember where I came from. I spent most of my life in a dark, deep hole." Frustratingly, Arthur had a point. He went on, "You think there's anything you can do to me that hasn't already been done?"

Lony smiled. "There's a lot I can do--things you can't even fathom."

"Don't bet on it."

"If you don't care about yourself, Arthur, or about getting out of here, then consider Willard and Hunter. They're counting on you to follow through with this plan."

"So are you."

"Am I, Arthur? It might be easier for me to throw you in that hole, after all, and just take what's mine."

Arthur's brow furrowed. Lony could almost smell his pitiful brain trying to work. "If that's true, then why didn't you do that in the first place?"

"Indeed."

"You could do it right now. Get rid of me."

Lony's heartbeat quickened. Heat flooded his body and even his penis hardened. It had been weeks since he'd killed sausage. By now the smell of his decomposing body must have finally caught up with the stench of his breath. Tormenting him had been fun and such a release. The thought of doing it again--

No. He and Arthur were too much alike in too many ways. Once he did away with Arthur, he'd never find anyone like him. He'd already put too much time and effort into him. By now all this meant more than his original plan to claim Joker from the man who'd brought him to life and to have a near-perfect decoy if he ever needed one. He'd already taught Arthur so many things, and he'd absorbed the knowledge and commanded his new skills with a capability Lony had never imagined. Arthur was becoming Lony's creation, and he couldn't destroy him without first seeing the final result.

Lony was an excellent judge of character and a master manipulator. He realized just by looking in Arthur's eyes that none of his threats had penetrated him. He could probably torture Arthur to the brink of death and still not get him to submit, at least not in his current state of mind.

"I don't want to get rid of you, Arthur. I don't want to get rid of Willard or Hunter, either."

A flicker of realization crossed Arthur's face and Lony almost smiled.

Instead he pounced on Arthur's moment of weakness. "Our plan affects them as much as us. We're doing this as much for them as for ourselves. We can't do this without each other, Arthur."

"No. We can't." Arthur's gaze met Lony's. He understood, but he wasn't backing down. Lony had to respect that.

"Then no more incidents like the one a couple of days ago. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes. We do."

"All right." Lony removed the straightjacket. He opened the door to the storage room and escorted Arthur back to his unit.

* * *

_Present Day_

Lony took the day of Willard's release off and arranged for Hunter to do the same.

It was still early morning when the three of them walked out of Arkham and climbed into Lony's car. Willard sat in the passenger seat and Hunter in the back.

During the ride home, they were quiet for the most part. When they parked in front of Willard's house, Lony glanced at the rat man from the corner of his eye.

Willard's expression was unreadable, but when they parked in front of the large, dark house, he drew a visible breath and held it for several seconds.

"It's been fully renovated," Lony said. "It took some doing. Your rodent friends left extensive damage."

"It needed repairs even before they. . .left their mark," Willard said softly.

"It looks great now." Hunter reached over the seat to squeeze Willard's shoulder.

Their neediness and mutual affection nearly made Lony gag.

He smiled at Willard. "Let's go in and you can get settled. You don't start work until next week, so you'll have time to reacquaint yourself with the house. Hunter and I will be glad to help."

They stepped out of the car, and Lony opened the gate. The three climbed the stairs to the front door and paused. Lony offered Willard the keys. Willard's gaze shifted nervously toward them. Although he had been an ideal patient, it hadn't been all that long since his mental breakdown. It had occurred within these walls that held so many memories for Willard. Lony could only guess the images now flashing through his thoughts--his father committing suicide in the upstairs bathroom, his mother dead on the basement stairs, her lifeless body covered with rats, and the rats themselves filling every room, a force Willard had once controlled turned violently against him.

Amusing as it would be to watch Willard disintegrate again, Lony preferred not to deal with it. He still had to focus on Arthur.

Willard finally took the keys and unlocked the door. He stepped inside, but paused in the entrance and glanced around.

"Are you okay?" Hunter asked softly, stepping closer to Willard.

His gaze slanted toward her. "I'm fine."

"Good." Lony took off his jacket and hung it on a carved wooden coat stand. Hunter did the same.

Only Willard left his on. As if in a trance, he approached the stairs and rested a hand on the railing. "It's hard to believe I'm here. I never thought I'd see this house again."

"Arthur was adamant that you should have it," Lony said.

Willard glanced at him over his shoulder with his usual suspicion. "And you were happy to oblige."

"Of course. Would you like to see your room?"

Willard silently climbed the stairs. Hunter followed, and Lony decided to leave them alone for a while.

"I'm going to make coffee. Do you want any?" Lony asked.

"No, thank you," Willard said absently and continued up the stairs.

"Aristotle probably can't wait to see you," Hunter said to Willard.

Aristotle. The filthy little rat. Just last night, Lony had stood over its cage and contemplated bashing its head in. Willard would just _love_ that. Lony chuckled to himself as he started the coffee maker.

So far so good with Stiles. Lony had been fairly certain he was stable enough to handle returning to the house. Getting Willard released hadn't been too difficult. He had behaved well in Arkham, and unlike Arthur, he hadn't been convicted of murder. Though he'd never confessed to killing his boss, even in therapy, Lony knew Stiles had done it. Willard wasn't stupid, though, and he would no doubt take that secret to his grave.

It would be more difficult to get Arthur released, but Lony could get it done, though it would mean threatening the right people. He had time to worry about that. Arthur still had a way to go.

Patience.

All Lony needed was patience.

And a firm hand.


	45. Only Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur deals with Willard's absence. Will he accept it, or revert to his old ways?

The first day without Willard crept by--like the times before Willard had arrived and Arthur had no hope.

No hope for friendship, let alone love, and certainly no hope for freedom.

If Hunter had worked today, it would have made everything bearable, but she was home with Willard for his first day of relative freedom. It was understandable that she stay with him, but fuck it, Arthur needed her, too. _He_ was the one still trapped in Arkham, not Willard.

He wondered what they were doing. Was Willard happy to be in his house again, this time without the threat of losing it? Were he and Hunter in his room or hers? Arthur knew they hadn't done _it_ yet. Willard said he wouldn't have sex with her until he was out of Arkham. Why, oh, why couldn't Arthur be there for the big moment?

It was afternoon and he paced around the rec room, his thoughts on Willard and Hunter. It was almost too much, imagining them having fun without him. He paused by the wall and smashed his head against it.

An orderly approached--a new one who hadn't been there when Joker had taken over the unit. This guy wasn't too bad, especially compared to Sausage.

"Mr. Fleck," he said, meeting Arthur's gaze. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Arthur grinned and shrugged. He sat at the nearby table where he'd left his sketch pad. "I'm okay. See. Just going back to drawing. Do you want to model for me?"

"Maybe some other time," the orderly said.

Good. Arthur didn't really want to sketch him, anyway. Instead he started drawing his hopes and plans for the future with Willard and Hunter. He drew them on the beach, dancing, and sipping drinks out of coconuts. Imagining what Willard would think when he saw these doodles, Arthur chuckled. He often said Arthur had crude taste.

Dr. Seil had taken the day off, too, so at least Arthur was spared their daily session. He wondered if Only Lies would show up tonight for swimming--training. These past few months, Only Lies had been calling it training.

By now Arthur was a strong swimmer, in the pool, anyway. Jumping into the Gotham river was different altogether. He remembered how deep, dark, and cold the water had been. The sensation of its weight pressing him down, the muffled sound--almost silence, but not quite, and the frantic slam of his heart against his chest.

He drew furiously, shading with fervor inspired by his negative thoughts. When he finished, he stared at his last sketch. He, Hunter, and Willard were on the beach, but the water wasn't calm. Dark, angry waves rushed toward them--a tidal wave, almost.

He closed the sketchbook before it was time for him to turn in his pencil and retire to his room before dinner. On his way, he wondered if Hunter would come for visiting hours. She'd promised, but she was busy with Willard today. She probably wouldn't come.

At dinner, Arthur paid little attention to his food. He'd scarcely eaten breakfast, hadn't touched lunch, and the thought of eating dinner made him feel a little sick. His appetite had improved over the past months, mostly because he was intent on keeping up his end of the bargain with Dr. Seil. He'd actually been feeling better, though, and most days he was even a little hungry, so eating wasn't as much of a chore as it had once been. Today was different, though. He missed Willard so much that he didn't want to eat or sleep or talk or even dance. He wanted to lie on the floor, look through the rat hole, and see his friend and lover. He wanted to touch Willard and be touched by him.

He wished Hunter were here. She'd hug him, at least. She'd talk to him, and she'd understand, because like Willard, she was _family_.

Family. If she was family, she wouldn't leave him alone today. Willard had no choice but to stay away, but Only Lies hadn't said Hunter couldn't visit. How could she abandon him like this, on his first day without Willard?

After dinner, he paced up and down his room, knowing that Hunter wouldn't come tonight. He was alone. He shouldn't have trusted her or anyone. Maybe he'd imagined her and Willard. He was still crazy, right? Fuck everybody.

A nurse stuck her head in his room. Nurse Cindy. She had replaced Doreen, who had also abandoned the loonies here at Arkham. Nice people never stuck around. Only the assholes like Nurse Julie stayed, probably because they liked fucking with people.

"Mr. Fleck, you have a visitor. Hunter is here, if you'd like to see her."

Arthur's heart thudded in his chest. He grinned and laughed with relief, running both hands through his hair. "Yeah. Sure I want to see her."

He picked up his sketchbook. An orderly escorted him to the rec room. Since "the incident," everyone watched him carefully. At least they didn't keep him restrained as much, thanks to Dr. Seil.

Hunter sat at a table in the rec room, but stood when Arthur approached. She smiled and hugged him tightly. Closing his eyes, Arthur melted against her, holding her even closer.

"I didn't think you'd come," he admitted.

"I told you I'd always come. Willard wanted to, but Only Lies wouldn't let him. At least not yet. He might change his mind in the future."

"Fuck him."

"Yeah. I feel the same way about it." She held his gaze. "How are you doing?"

"I miss Willard."

She squeezed his hand, her smile fading. "I know."

"I mean I miss him _a lot_." Arthur gazed into her eyes and basked in the sympathy he saw there. He so needed to unload all this on someone.

Hunter hugged him again, and then she tugged him toward the table. They sat next to each other.

"Don't tell Willard I said that, though. I don't want him to feel bad because he's out and I'm not."

"Arthur, it's okay to miss him. He misses you, too, and so do I when I'm not here."

Warmth wrapped around Arthur like a flannel bathrobe. "You do? And he said that?"

"Yes. He told me."

"I still don't want to make him feel bad."

Hunter smiled gently. "How about if I tell him you miss him, but you're okay."

"Yeah. That sounds good."

She pointed to his sketchbook. "Do you have new drawings?"

"Yeah." He flipped through the book until he found his most recent sketches, and then he handed it to her.

She turned the pages with fingers tipped with ruby-red nails. He remembered how those hands felt on his body. Willard might know by now, too, or he would soon. Maybe they'd forget about him.

"I love these pictures." She laughed, and despite his worries, her reaction warmed him. Hunter had such a beautiful smile. "This one of you and Willard surfing is so adorable."

Arthur chuckled. "He'll hate it. Let me see." Arthur took the book from her and tore out several new sketches, including the one she'd just mentioned. "Bring them home. I don't want him to forget me."

Her smile faded and she rested her hand on his knee. "I already told you, he misses you. Do you think either of us could ever forget you?"

Pushing aside his negative thoughts, he grinned and batted his lashes. "I _am_ unforgettable."

"Yes, you are." Her eyes shone with affection, and again Arthur felt torn between trusting in the love of his family and knowing that no one had ever loved him like this before, so it was probably just another fantasy.

He closed the sketchbook and placed it aside, deciding not to show her the drawing of the tidal wave about to swallow the three of them. 

As usual, visiting hours ended too fast.

Soon Arthur was lying in bed. Drowsiness from the sleeping pill kicked in. Obviously Dr. Seil had no intention of taking him to the pool tonight, or he wouldn't have been given the medication until after. Only Hunter hadn't abandoned him today.

Well, Willard hadn't actually abandoned him. His release had been part of their plan--and it had been Arthur's idea. He wanted Willard to be free and happy, but he couldn't help missing him.

Despite his drug-induced weariness, he dragged himself out of bed and lay on the floor. His stomach tightened. Sorrow and blind rage ripped a cry from his throat. At some point today, someone had sealed the rat hole between his room and Willard's. He couldn't even have one last look--one last fantasy.

Strained laughter burst from his throat. Clutching his chest, he laughed and gagged. Tears streamed down his face. He staggered to his feet and sat on the bed, laughing.

From other rooms, several patients shouted at him.

Nurse Julie and two orderlies entered the room.

"Didn't he have a sleeping pill tonight?" asked an orderly.

"Yes." Nurse Julie glared at Arthur, her face pinched with annoyance. "Arthur, try to control yourself. Breathe."

Arthur ignored them. He didn't give a fuck about lessening their workload and making life easier for them.

"Are you sure he took the pill?"

"I'm sure," snapped the nurse. "If he doesn't quiet down, we'll get him moved to isolation."

"But Dr. Seil said not unless he's danger--"

"He's disrupting the entire unit. We can't have that," Julie retorted, heading for the door. "Come on. One of you keep an eye on him."

They left Arthur's room, but he noticed an orderly standing outside, watching him through the window.

It didn't take too long for Arthur to regain his composure. He stretched out in bed wiping tears and sweat from his face. Then he rolled onto his side, wrapped his arms around himself, and closed his eyes. The sleeping pill combined with his recent flood of emotions sent him to sleep almost immediately.

* * *

Arthur awoke to soft lips pressed against his. Hunter loomed over him. He wasn't sure how she had gotten into his room. Dr. Seil must have arranged it. Arthur should want to know why, but he didn't. All that mattered was that she was here.

"Hunter," he said against her full, warm lips. He tugged her on top of him, enjoying the press of her breasts against his chest. She wiggled, rubbing against his hard dick. It felt so fucking good. They'd only had sex that one time in the elevator, but he'd dreamed about it so many times after.

He took her face in his hands and deepened their kiss. Their tongues thrust against each other, tasting and exploring with freedom they hadn't known since the elevator. This was even better, because they were alone. No Sausage. No chance that the elevator would get fixed before they finished.

Moaning softly, Hunter shifted slightly to the side and slid her hand down his chest and stomach. She reached into his pants and curled her fist around him. Pleasure broke over Arthur with every stroke of her hand. His hips shifted and he thrust into her fist. His heart pounded. When she kissed him, he panted into her open mouth. It was funny how he could swim up and down the length of the pool underwater without feeling this winded. Everything felt so fucking good that he couldn't control his response, physical or emotional.

"Oh, Arthur." She gently bit his mouth and his pleasure spiked.

When he rolled her onto her back in his small hospital bed, their clothes vanished. Again he didn't think about how or why. He just wanted to feel. The tip of his penis pushed against her tight, wet pussy.

A hand braced on either side of her head, Arthur kissed her deeply while thrusting into her.

Hunter clung to him. Her hips rose to meet his thrusts. By now Arthur could hardly focus on anything except the drives of his body and the way she clung to him, panting his name.

"Hunter, come with me." Willard's soft, smooth voice made both her and Arthur freeze.

They glanced toward the open doorway where Willard stood, looking handsome in a black suit, his dark, shiny hair parted severely and combed perfectly. His cool blue gaze met Arthur's, but it was almost like staring into the eyes of a stranger.

"Come join us, sweetheart," Arthur said, trying to summon Joker, but not quite able to reach him.

"Hunter," Willard repeated, holding out his hand.

"Sorry, Arthur." She pushed him away, rose, and strode toward Willard. Her lithe, naked body pressed to his suited one. He slid an arm around her narrow waist and held her close. They smiled at Arthur--mocking smiles that pierced his heart.

Then they turned and left his room without looking back. Arthur leapt out of bed and tried to open the door, but it was locked tight. He threw himself at it over and over.

* * *

Arthur gasped when he hit the floor. His heart beat fast and he laughed and sobbed at the same time. Tangled in his sheets, he glanced around his dark room.

It had only been a dream, but the feelings remained. His sadness turned to rage. Willard and Hunter were alone together--on the outside.

_It's what you wanted. You're the one who told Only Lies that you wouldn't agree to his plan unless Willard was free, but you didn't think about how it would feel when he got out first._

Arthur shook his head. No. The dream he'd just awakened from was no more real than the hallucinations he'd once had about his neighbor Sophie being his girlfriend.

Hunter had come to see him last night. She'd said Willard missed him--that they both missed him. She'd keep coming to see him until he got out and could be with them again, like they should be.

Like a family.

His family.

Before meeting them, he'd lost hope, but he wouldn't again. If he did, then Penny Fleck, Thomas Wayne, Murray, and Randall won. Those fucking Wall Street guys, Sausage, and Only Lies won. They had already taken enough from him. First his dignity, then his sanity, and finally his freedom.

_But you got them back--most of them at least._

None of them would take anything else from him, though.

Never again.


	46. All For One, One For All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard and Hunter spend their first night alone together and make an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to RavenPoe for the Secret of Nimh inspiration! Something more will be done with that soon when Willard and Hunter check on their rat army. :-)  
> Unfortunately, due to a change in my schedule, for the next few weeks I'll probably be back to updating once a week on Wednesdays. Thank you to anyone who has kept up with the story. I hope you're enjoying it!

Still distracted by her visit with Arthur, Hunter stepped into the house. Even though it had been Willard's first day out of Arkham, she wondered if she shouldn't have gone to work after all. Arthur hadn't taken his separation from Willard quite as well as she'd hoped. He'd tried to cover it up, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that it affected him deeply.

Fortunately, by the time she'd left, Arthur had seemed to feel better. His depression was mostly Only Lies's fault. Keeping Willard from visiting Arthur was a mistake, or maybe not to Only Lies. The "doctor" loved to play with people. No doubt he was enjoying this, seeing how close to the edge he could push both Arthur and Willard. Hunter would somehow keep them connected, even if they were physically apart.

This should be a time of hope and happiness for Willard, and even though he kept most of his feelings to himself, Hunter knew he worried about Arthur. They both did.

"Hunter," Willard said, walking down the long staircase. Barefoot and wearing a blue robe belted at his waist, he looked a little disheveled. Aristotle perched on his shoulder. "How's Arthur?"

"He's doing okay." She handed Willard the rolled-up sketches Arthur had given her. "He sent these for you."

Willard unrolled them. His sharp blue gaze scanned them and he smiled a little. "I wish he was here."

"So do I." Hunter slipped off her jacket and hung it next to Willard's on the coat rack. She noticed that Dr. Seil's wasn't there. "Has Only Lies gone out?"

"He said he wouldn't be back until late."

"Good." Hunter paused and held his gaze. This was the first time they'd ever been completely alone together.

"What have you been doing?"

"Just looking around and spending some time with Aristotle."

"He was glad to see you."

"Thank you for taking such good care of him."

"It's fun. I never thought I'd like rats, but you and Aristotle have changed my mind." She reached out to stroke their furry friend. "I've been thinking that maybe Aristotle might like another rat to keep him company, you know, while we're at work?"

"That's a good idea, but we have to be careful."

"Because of Dr. Seil?"

"Because I remember what happened with Ben. We must be discerning about who joins the family. Right, Aristotle?" Willard glanced at the rat.

"I know, but if we find one that's right--"

"Do you have one in mind?" Willard narrowed his eyes. He was so perceptive.

"Actually I do." She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "But I don't want to talk about it here."

Earlier, she and Willard had discussed the possibility that Only Lies might have bugged the house. He was far too controlling to trust them alone without some way of observing them.

"We could go for a walk."

"You're ready for bed."

"I can get dressed."

"Or we could watch TV?"

"All right."

"I'm going to change." She jogged up to her room where she quickly shed her clothes and put on a violet nightshirt, a fuzzy purple bathrobe, and matching socks.

On her way downstairs, her stomach fluttered. Today, she and Willard had spent time together, walking outside and exploring the house. They had been like friends--family--but how would it be now, alone at night? Like Arthur, he had attracted her from the first. When he looked at her, she sensed that he felt the same way, but unlike Arthur, he had never made a move on her while in Arkham.

Now that he had the chance, would he try to take their relationship to the next level? She wanted to, just like she'd wanted to with Arthur, but regarding romance, Willard was harder to read. Arthur wasn't afraid of his feelings, especially when he was in a Joker state of mind. He took risks to get what he wanted, and Hunter liked that about him. Willard was more restrained.

She found him sitting on the couch in the parlor, but the television wasn't on.

"Where's Aristotle?" she asked.

"Upstairs. I wasn't sure if you wanted. . .some time alone?" His gaze shifted away from her and then back again.

She smiled. "That sounds nice." Hunter settled next to Willard onto the couch. They didn't touch, and there was an awkwardness between them that had never been there before.

"Hunter, I--" He drew a deep breath and hesitantly touched her face.

"Willard, we don't have to do anything." She held his gaze and took his hand. Their fingers entwined. "We can just sit here, or if you want to go to sleep, that's fine."

"I'm not completely sure what to do with myself. It's so strange, being back here." He glanced around the room. His gaze lingered on the painting of his father hanging over the fireplace. "It's hard to believe it wasn't ruined. The painting, I mean."

Hunter studied the fair-haired, bespectacled man in the painting. "You don't look much like him."

"No. I was always a disappointment."

"Willard, that's all in the past."

"The past can seem closer than it is, if that makes any sense."

Hunter nodded. There were so many parts of her past that she tried to forget, too. "It makes perfect sense."

Willard gaze still lingered on his father's portrait. Moisture welled in his eyes. "Sometimes he was nice. I think part of him tried to love me. Sometimes. . .I even miss him, or the relationship we might have had, if we were different people."

Hunter wasn't quite sure what to say, or if he even expected a response, so she just listened until he turned to her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about. Do you want to talk more?"

He sighed and swiped at a single tear that trailed down his cheek. Then he smiled a bit. "No. That's enough about the past. It's the present that matters, and the future."

Smiling gently, she nodded. "That's right. Let's watch TV."

"Okay. A distraction. I think that's a good idea."

Hunter stood, switched on the television, and started changing channels. "Let me know if you want me to stop."

"Whatever you want to watch is fine."

She paused at an animated movie depicting cute, talking rats. "I think I know this. It was a kid's movie that came out last year. The Secret of Nimh. I like animation, but I always feel silly going to see them without any kids."

"Leave it, if you want."

She walked back to the couch and tucked her legs under her. "It's a little chilly tonight, don't you think?"

"Sort of." His gaze fixed on the movie. After a few minutes, he appeared absorbed in it. Hunter smiled. That probably shouldn't surprise her. She shivered.

Willard's gaze slanted toward her and he edged closer to slide an arm around her. Hunter snuggled against him. She thought about Arthur, alone in Arkham, and wished he could be here with them. At least he was probably unconscious from his sleeping pill. She hated to think about him possibly lying in bed, alone and feeling abandoned. In time, he'd adjust, once he realized that she and Willard hadn't forgotten about him. She'd reassure him of that every single day.

On TV, the terrifying secrets of the laboratory called Nimh and the tortures suffered by the animals there were revealed.

"Nimh reminds me a little of Arkham," Willard said softly. 

Hunter's throat constricted. Maybe he had a point, and Arthur was still there.

Resting her head against Willard's shoulder, she placed a hand on his knee in a comforting gesture. "We can watch something else."

"No, I. . .it's good," he murmured.

Almost unconsciously, she stroked his thigh. He rubbed her shoulder and she lifted her head just enough to press a delicate kiss to the side of his neck. His skin was warm, and he smelled like soap and shampoo. Feeling a bit more confident, she nuzzled his neck and slid her fingers through his silky hair.

He turned his full attention to her, sliding his hand from her shoulder to her waist and pulling her closer. He kissed her. Warm, firm lips applied gentle pressure against hers. Closing her eyes, Hunter parted her lips.

A soft moan escaped his throat and his warm, wet tongue met hers. Willard was broader through the shoulders and chest than Arthur, but lean. Though not overly-muscled, he was quite fit and exercised regularly, even when he'd been in Arkham. It had been a sign that he was getting better, when he'd started taking care of his health.

Willard had come a long way in the past six months, but she reminded herself that sometimes he was still fragile, especially tonight. It was his first time back in this house. After everything that happened here, he was doing well. She didn't want to mess him up by pressuring him in any way, so she let him take the lead.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" Willard asked.

"Do you?"

He moistened his lips and lowered his dark lashes over his pretty blue eyes. "Maybe it's a good idea. Our keeper might be back at any time."

She chuckled softly. Yes, she'd prefer Only Lies not interrupt them tonight.

Hunter kissed him briefly before she stood and turned off the television.

On their way upstairs, Willard took her hand. "That was an interesting plot for a cartoon."

"It was."

"I liked the rats better than the people, but most of the time that's how I feel in real life, too."

"Can't say I blame you. Willard, if you'd rather be alone tonight--"

"No." He held her gaze and squeezed her hand. "I'd rather not, unless you would?"

"No."

"Good." He smiled slightly. "Would you like to go to your room or mine?"

"What do you want?"

"Let's go to mine."

On their way to Willard's room, the same awkward silence hung between them. She and Willard cared deeply about each other, but she couldn't help feeling that something was wrong--something she couldn't put into words.

Willard's room was spacious, and like the rest of the house, filled with dark woodwork. Most of the original furniture had been destroyed during the rat infestation. Hunter had personally decorated most of the house with lots of input from Willard and Arthur. Lony had arranged for her to have credit at a furniture store, and she had brought their catalog for the guys to look at during visiting hours.

They had king size beds in all the rooms--just in case. That way, they could be comfortable in any room they chose.

Hunter glanced at Willard as they both removed their robes. She tossed hers on the foot of the bed while Willard placed his there carefully. They climbed between the crisp, dark blue sheets and Willard folded his hands on his stomach. Hunter stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then she rolled onto her side and gazed at Willard.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye before turning toward her.

Tentatively, he reached out and ran a fingertip down her cheek.

"You're very pretty," he said.

"You think so?"

"Yes. Oh yes." He edged closer and kissed her cheek and then her lips. The kiss was chaste at first, but lingering. After a moment, his cool lips warmed. He rested a hand on her waist, and tugged her closer. Hunter went to him, sliding her fingers through his hair.

She loved his warmth and his taste, but despite the pleasantness of the kiss, something nagged at the back of her mind.

"Hunter, I. . ." He looked uncomfortable--contrite almost.

"It's okay. This might not be the right time. It's your very first day out of Arkham."

"I know. It's not so much that, but. . .I don't want to offend you by saying the wrong thing."

Rather than offended, she felt relieved--not because she wasn't attracted to him, but because something was interfering--something they needed to talk about.

"Willard." She cupped his cheek and held his gaze. His eyes could be so cool at times, but not now. At this moment, he was completely open and trusting. "Please tell me. You won't offend me. I want to know what you're feeling."

"I just--I want us to be together, but I can't stop thinking about Arthur."

That was it. "I know. Me, too."

"It doesn't feel right without him. We're here, and he's still there, and--"

"Are you saying you'd like to wait for him?"

He drew a breath, his eyes widening a bit. "Would you. . .mind?"

Hunter smiled. "No. Not at all. I think waiting is right--for all of us. All for one, one for all. Like the Three Musketeers.”

A little grin flirted with his lips. “Great book. Do you think we should tell Arthur that we want to wait?"

"Definitely." Hunter beamed. Despite his brave front, Arthur had clearly been upset about remaining in Arkham--he might even be worried that she and Willard would abandon him. They had met on the same night. Their relationship had grown like three roots from different trees, entwined until they couldn't separate without destroying one another.

"Only Lies won't let me see him." Willard's gaze turned cold again. "So you tell Arthur next time that we want to wait for him."

"I will."

He nodded.

Hunter kissed his mouth again and smiled. "Goodnight, Willard."

"Goodnight." He left the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"Do you mind if I let Aristotle out of his cage?"

"Bring him over." She chuckled.

Willard took Aristotle from his cage and climbed back into bed. He slid an arm around Hunter and she snuggled close to him. Aristotle curled up on their shared pillow.

* * *

The next morning when Hunter arrived for work at Arkham, the first thing she did was stop by the cafeteria to say hello to Arthur. He sat alone at a table, toying with a sorry-looking bowl of oatmeal. He looked haggard in a way she hadn't seen in months.

"Hey, baby." She sat across from him. "You haven't been eating, have you?"

"Look at this shit." He held up a spoonful of the lumpy cereal.

"I can get you something else."

He dropped the spoon and glanced away from her. When he looked at her, Joker gleamed in his eyes. "Are you and Willard having _fun_ out there?"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth, if you can."

She held his gaze. "I've never lied to you."

He nodded, his lips trembling a bit. "I know. I guess this is sour grapes on my part." He licked his lips and forced a smile.

"It's understandable, but this is only temporary, right?"

"I guess. By the time Only Lies can get me out of here, you and Willard won't need me anymore."

"We need you. Actually we had a talk last night about the three of us."

Joker's enormous grin was at odds with the pain glittering in his big green eyes. "You two ready to call everything off already?"

"No. We want to postpone certain things until you can join us."

His brow furrowed. "Certain things?"

"Sex, Arthur." She smiled. "I know that's what you're thinking about, right?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"Willard and I decided we want to wait until you're out before we--"

"Really?" A giddy laugh burst from his throat. "You want to wait? both of you?"

"Yes. Willard wanted me to tell you that's how we both feel, so you'd better keep your strength up, because when you get out of here, boy, you're going to need it." She gazed into his eyes.

He laughed and swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal.

Hunter squeezed his hand and stood. "I have to get to work. See you later."

"I'm going to get out of here," Arthur reassured her. "One way or another."

She held his gaze for a moment. "I know."

Hunter left the cafeteria, pausing in the doorway to glance back at Arthur who raised a spoonful of oatmeal to her in a salute.


	47. The New Addition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard spends some time alone. He and Hunter welcome a new adedition to the house.

While Hunter and Dr. Seil were at work, Willard had the house to himself. _His_ house, not _the_ house.

Or was it? In his mind, he had no more right to this house than he had when he'd learned that he had no choice but to sell it to pay off his parents' debt. It had belonged to them before that, and now it belonged to Arthur and Dr. Seil. Seil had paid for it in money and Arthur with the part of his soul that he'd sold to Only Lies.

Arthur had done that for Willard as much as for himself. He'd done it for the three of them.

Hunter had held them together over these months. She'd been their connection to the outside--their hope for a better life.

What had Willard done for them? What could he do? There's nothing he wouldn't do for them, but he didn't have much to contribute. Wisdom? What was the wisdom of a madman worth? His only outstanding accomplishment had been to bond with rats. Maybe that was his gift, and someday he and his rats would contribute as much to Arthur and Hunter as they had contributed to him.

Speaking of rats, it was the perfect time for him to check on their friends in the shed. If Only Lies was somehow watching him, all he would know was that Willard took a walk in the woods.

"Come on, Aristotle." Willard tucked the white rat into his jacket pocket. He left the house and walked through the yard to the wooded area behind it. As a boy, he'd enjoyed coming here to read. Sometimes he'd climb onto a low-hanging branch of one of the twisted old trees. He'd lose himself in a fictional world and forget about reality until his mother or father called for him to return home.

The shed was quite far into the woods and well hidden. He gave Hunter credit for finding it.

"Hello. Coming in," Willard called before he opened the door. At first glance, someone who didn't know rats might not believe that any dwelled in the shed at all.

Willard walked to what had once been a tool cabinet and tugged at a partially open drawer. Dozens of little twitching noses, whiskers, and feet appeared. Willard's lips flickered in a smile. Rats soon emerged from other drawers, dark crevices, and shadowed corners. After testing them with a few commands, he practically glowed with pride. They hadn't forgotten anything. Hunter had done _so_ well.

After a moment, his gaze drifted toward a brown and white rat. Unusual markings for a wild rat. He held out his hand to the little fellow who climbed into it.

"Well, you're fancy, aren't you?"

Its nose twitched and it looked directly into his eyes--so much like Aristotle.

Willard remembered Hunter saying that she had a particular rat in mind for Aristotle's companion. Something told him this was the one, and if so, she'd made a lovely choice. He knew better than to assume anything, however, and would wait for Hunter to suggest the rat.

He spent a few hours with the rats before returning to the house for lunch. He ate soup and a sandwich while Aristotle munched on nuts.

Afterward, he wandered to the library. While many of his family's books had been destroyed, either gnawed or urinated on, some remained. He noticed many new titles, as well. They probably belonged to Only Lies and Hunter. His brow furrowed and he ran his fingertip along the spines. Most of the titles were about weapons, combat, and psychology. Willard had an entire week before he started his new job. That gave him plenty of time to devour many of these books. Willard read quickly. He smirked when he thought about how he hadn't used half of his potential while working for Mr. Martin. With the proper motivation, all those purchase orders never would have backed up, but Willard feared that if he had been ambitious, Mr. Martin would have expected more from him, and Willard needed to focus on caring for his mother.

In therapy, Dr. Seil had pointed out that maybe if Willard had showcased his skills instead of disguising them, he would have become a valued member of Mr. Martin's team and therefore been offered more perks, such as a higher wage and more time off to spend with his mother. It sounded reasonable, but Dr. Seil hadn't known Mr. Martin. His former boss was _not_ a reasonable man.

Since Hunter now traveled to and from work with Only Lies, they arrived home at the same time. They had stopped for Chinese food takeout on the way.

A short time later, they sat at the kitchen table to eat dinner.

"How's Arthur?" Willard asked.

"He's doing better," Hunter replied. "He says hello."

"How did you spend your day, Willard?" Only Lies asked.

"I went for a walk, and then I did some reading. Hunter, I've thought more about what you said about maybe getting a companion for Aristotle, to keep him company when I start work."

"Another rat?" Only Lies raised an eyebrow. "I'm quite firm about keeping this house pest-free. After what happened in the past, I'm sure you both agree. One rat is relatively harmless, but two become six and so on."

"I definitely agree," Willard said quickly, his gaze shifting from the doctor to Hunter. "That's why his companion needs to be male."

"That will work," Hunter said.

"Well, I'll leave it to you both to work it out, but no more than two rats in this house or I'll call an exterminator."

Willard's stomach clenched, but he remained outwardly calm.

After dinner, Only Lies left the house, saying that he had a meeting with some colleagues and would be back later. That afforded Willard and Hunter the perfect opportunity to visit their friends in the shed.

They shrugged on their jackets, grabbed flashlights, and headed into the trees.

No sooner had they entered the shed, than the brown and white rat scampered toward Hunter. She knelt, and it climbed up her sleeve and onto her shoulder. Warmth spread through Willard. Her relationship with this rat was clearly similar to the one he once had with Socrates and now had with Aristotle.

"I knew he was the one," Willard said when Hunter stood. They faced each other, eye-to-eye, each with a rat on his shoulder. "I bet you even have a name for him, don't you?"

"I've been thinking about it. How about Nicodemus?"

"Like the rat in the Secret of Nimh. An excellent choice."

After spending an hour or so with the rats, they walked back home and began the process of acclimating Nicodemus to the house.

That night, when they climbed into bed, Willard slid an arm around Hunter and kissed her hair. It was no wonder he and Arthur loved her. She understood them as well as they understood each other. It was as if they were meant to cross paths.

Aristotle and Nicodemus burrowed under the sheets.

"This is so weird." Hunter laughed softly. "I never thought I'd be okay with sleeping in a bed with two rats."

"And me."

She laughed and turned. Cupping his face, she kissed him. "Goodnight, Willard."

"Goodnight." She turned again and closed her eyes. After a while, the evenness of her breathing told him she was asleep.

Willard rarely had trouble sleeping, but other than his closest rodent friends, he had always slept alone. These past two nights sharing a bed with Hunter had been. . .strange. Not unpleasant, but he wasn't sure he would be able to _always_ share a bed with either her or Arthur. Sometimes Willard needed to be alone. He'd need to find a way to accomplish this without hurting them in any way, because that's something he'd never want to do.


	48. Mind Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lony plans for the future. Willard and Arthur push for a meeting, but Lony is still having fun pulling their strings.

Lony kept his expression neutral, but inside Joker grinned. He studied the chessboard. Winning would be so simple, but he knew that winning every game wasn't the best way to gain friends and manipulate people.

An evening of chess with Dr. Hector Jones, one of the most influential members of the hospital board, wasn't his idea of excitement, but Lony understood the importance of connections. Getting Arthur released from Arkham would take consistent work, the least of which was therapy with the man himself. Lony didn't doubt that he would free Arthur, but only by blackmail and collecting favors from friends in high places.

Truthfully, he'd rather spend his time with Fleck than with the rich, connected pigeons who reminded him too much of dear old dad, Thomas fucking Wayne. Since he'd started showing real backbone and focus, Fleck had become quite interesting. Lony felt a bizarre sense of pride when he watched Fleck swim like a pro. He'd shown him some self-defense as well, but he didn't want to go too far with that, not in Arkham. After Arthur was released, Lony would really put him to the test. He'd teach him to fight and shoot. He might even have the brain capacity for more.

Perhaps Lony was asking for too much. If he groomed Arthur too well, it would almost be a waste to use him as decoy.

Still, one couldn't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

Lony reminded himself not to look at Fleck through rose-colored glasses. He was still too emotional and lacked intelligence.

"Checkmate." Hector smiled, making his move.

"Ah. Congratulations." Lony inclined his head.

"It's about time. You've been winning for two weeks straight."

"Luck."

"I don't think so." Hector offered Lony a cigar, which he declined.

"Still the picture of health. Good for you, Lony." Hector puffed on his cigar and leaned back in his chair, studying Lony. "You've lost some weight, though. I hope it's intentional."

"Yes. I've gotten back into running," Lony explained. It was even a partial truth. No one except the manic ménage would ever know that he was losing weight to match Arthur's. "I'm planning to do the Gotham marathon again next year."

"Good for you. By the way, thanks again for covering for me last week."

Lony smiled easily. "No problem. What are friends for?" Apparently they were for hiding extramarital affairs. He'd been helping Hector hide his for several years now.

"Well, you know if there's ever anything I can do for you--"

"I won't hesitate to ask." Lony's smile broadened. He held the other man's gaze for a moment before glancing at his watch. "I'm afraid I have to go."

"Yes. Of course." Hector rose to retrieve Lony's coat and walk him to the front door. "By the way, how are things going with Willard Stiles? It's been about a month since his release, right?"

"Willard is doing very well. He's been no trouble at all."

"You're amazing, Lony. The very best at what you do. I won't be surprised if you're famous one day."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Hector." Lony grinned. "Yet, fame isn't important to me. My main concern is dedicating my life to helping my patients. Even a single success is worth more to me than personal recognition."

"Lony, Lony. I know you're dedicated, but there's nothing wrong with enjoying your success."

"Oh, I do." Lony held his gaze and grinned. "More than you know. Have a good night, Hector."

"You, too. See you the same day and time next week?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

Lony walked to his car and sped off. He unfastened his tie and yanked it off, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and relaxing behind the wheel.

He hadn't killed anyone since Sausage, and the urge was starting to nag him again. He'd robbed a few museums and jewelry stores over the past weeks, and while such excursions were fun, they lacked the climactic sensation of murder.

Life had become even more complicated since sharing a house with Willard and Hunter. Before, when he left Arkham, Lony could fully disengage himself from the persona he'd created to assimilate with normal society. Now, even at "home" he had to keep up part of his act. Yes, the manic ménage knew he wasn't everything he appeared to be, but there was so much they didn't know--things he wanted to keep secret. He never let any one person know everything about him. Secrets kept him safe.

Tonight, Lony went for a long, fast drive, content with his own company.

He hadn't lied about Willard doing well since his release. He went to work every day and even seemed to enjoy his job. Though he and Hunter spent much of their time at home, they also went for long walks, out to dinner, or to the movies. Their favorite hobby was still the two disgusting rodents they kept as pets. Lony hadn't been sure about allowing Willard to have a second rat, but he hadn't tried to push for others. He seemed to be cured of his obsession.

Still, Willard and Hunter weren't terribly difficult to live with and kept to themselves as much as possible.

By the time he arrived home, they had already retired for the night.

In the morning, they ate breakfast together, as was their habit. It was a good way for Lony to observe them.

"How is work going?" Lony asked Willard.

"It's going well." Willard placed his coffee cup down and drew a deep breath before fixing his gaze on Lony. "I've been wondering, when can I see Arthur?"

Lony's lips flickered in a patronizing smile. It was a small pleasure, to tease Willard and Arthur by keeping them apart, but after all Lony had done for them, he deserved a bit of fun. "We've talked about this before, Willard."

"You said you'd think about it."

"I have thought about it. It's not the right time."

"Why not?" Willard's blue eyes flashed.

"Because I don't want anything to interfere with Arthur's treatment. He's finally adjusted to you not being there. Seeing you might do more harm than good."

"Arthur is doing great," Hunter interjected. "He's done everything you want. Everything that's expected of him."

"Is that your professional opinion?" Lony raised an eyebrow at Hunter.

She obviously wanted to tell him to fuck off, but she couldn't afford to make him angry. This was such fun.

"When I think Arthur is ready, I'll allow you to visit. Now, it's time for all of us to leave for work."

As usual, Lony dropped Willard off at the library before he and Hunter continued to Arkham.

The day went as usual. Rather than give Arthur his swimming lesson at night, he had been taking him to the pool in the afternoon. Arthur had come such a long way that the "lessons" were now more like shared workouts. There was little more Lony could teach him here. By now Lony was as eager as Arthur to get him out of Arkham so they could progress further with their plan. Still, they had several months to go before they had any chance of getting Arthur released.

After their workout, they stood by the pool, drying off.

"When can I see Willard?" Arthur asked.

Did those two somehow read each other's minds?

"When I think you're ready. He's just getting accustomed to life outside of Arkham. Allowing him back here to see you might hurt his progress. You don't want that, do you, Arthur?"

He held Lony's gaze. A belligerent look crept across his angular face--Joker's look. Lony's stomach tightened. He resisted the urge to physically tear that look off Arthur's face. Joker didn't belong to him anymore.

"Arthur?" Lony prodded.

"No. I don't want to hurt Willard," Arthur said softly. "But I want to see him."

"I know. You've done well without him."

"I don't want to be with out him," Arthur snapped.

"The quickest way for you to see each other is for you to continue working hard. Behave yourself, like you have been, and you'll be out of here sooner than you know."

Arthur curled his lip and glanced at Lony like he'd just told him a blatant lie. How irritating. Lony was actually telling the truth this time.

"I think you're doing this because you think it's fun," Arthur said. "Playing with us because you can."

Sometimes Arthur was more perceptive than Lony gave him credit for.

"That's not true, Arthur."

"Prove it. Let Willard come here."

"Even if it means harming his progress out there?"

Arthur's upper lip twitched in a snarl. Then he lowered his gaze and shook his head. "No. Not if it means that."

Lony smiled. It felt good, being in control. He rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder, feeling the solid muscle and bone. Even at his most fragile, Arthur had a degree of muscle tone. Now, with better eating habits and consistent exercise, he had developed respectable strength, even if he still didn’t look like much. "You're doing well, Arthur. Believe me, all this will pay off for you."

Arthur shrugged off Lony's hand and reached for his clothes.

They didn't speak on their way back to Arthur's room.

Maybe Lony should consider allowing them to see each other. He'd reasoned with Arthur today, but he'd learned not to push his half-brother too hard because eventually, Arthur would push back.


	49. A Matter of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur misses Willard and Hunter. Joker gets restless. Hunter reads between the lines.

Arthur sat in front of the makeup mirror in the shabby dressing room at Ha Ha's. He carefully painted his depressed, lined face. Loneliness threatened to overpower him. Despite his rigid grin, tears welled in his eyes. Moisture fell, leaving streaks of blue paint on his gaunt cheeks.

"Arthur." Hunter stood behind him in the mirror and placed her hand on his shoulder. When he turned, no one was there.

"Hey," called a familiar voice. Back in the mirror, Joker stared at him, a sneer on his painted lips. "Pull yourself together."

"I miss you," Willard said.

Joker straightened his posture. His sneer turned to a cocky grin. He rose and turned to the door where Willard lingered, looking a little shy.

A hand slid up Joker's back and came to rest on his shoulder again. Hunter stood beside him. She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "We've been waiting for you."

Joker's smiled broadened. Turning, he cupped her cheek and kissed her. She moaned softly, closing her eyes and leaning against him until he broke the kiss.

While she slowly and seductively undressed, he approached Willard who stared at him, emotion glistening in his magnificent blue eyes. Taking Willard's angular face in his hands, Arthur kissed him possessively. That familiar taste. The texture of his lips. All those things he'd missed during their separation now filled him. Joker's heart pounded and he hummed, his mouth still latched to Willard's.

Hunter wrapped her arms around Joker from behind. She slid her hand into his pants and curled her fist around his semi-erect dick. Joker groaned and thrust his hips. She tightened her fist, stroking him while he continued kissing Willard until he tore his mouth away to suck air into his desperate lungs.

Willard grasped handfuls of Joker's hair and kissed him again.

"We miss you," Hunter said, against his neck, her breath raising goosebumps of pleasure.

"We love you," Willard spoke into Arthur's mouth.

* * *

Arthur jerked awake, his pulse racing and his dick hard. Since Willard had left Arkham, Arthur's libido had dwindled again. Certain medications lowered his sex drive, and without his lover in the next room, it hadn't mattered much to him.

It had been a long time since he'd awakened with a hard-on, and though it felt good, it also gave him a pang of regret. He missed Willard so much. Though he saw Hunter every day, during the night, when he was alone, he missed her, too.

He reached under the covers and into his pants to masturbate. Closing his eyes, he tried to sink back into the dream--to feel Hunter's breath against his skin and Willard's mouth on his.

They weren't with him, though. They were in Willard's house, probably sharing a bed. Maybe they had even had sex already, though they said they wanted to wait for him. As much as he wanted it to be true, he knew how strong the temptation must be for them to just do it. Arthur doubted he could stop if he were in bed with them, if they started kissing and caressing one another. He wouldn't blame them if they just went ahead and did it, even though deep inside he'd be disappointed.

Arthur couldn't help being greedy with his desires. For so many years, he'd had no one other than Penny, and back then it had been pretty much a one-sided relationship. Arthur went to work. He paid most of the bills. He did most of the work around the house, and he cared for Penny. All he had were his dreams and delusions.

Now he had real people in his life. People who cared about him in return, who wanted to talk to him. Touch him. Take care of him. He had people who wouldn't hurt him, and he wanted to be with them always.

Despite how much both Willard and Hunter turned him on, despite his hand on his penis and the sexy dream he'd just had, thinking about their separation dampened his libido. His dick softened and Arthur's depression replaced Joker's confidence.

His throat tightened and tears pricked his eyes. He closed them tightly and choked on a laugh/sob.

_Don't let it get to you. Pick yourself the fuck up and don't be so fucking pathetic. They love you. They're waiting for you. They said so._

But so many people had lied before. His own mother had lied.

Arthur tossed and turned for a while. If only he were at the pool. Then he could work out some of this--

When had that happened? In the past, he'd allowed his negative thoughts to eat away his insides, or he'd turned them outward with violence, like stomping on trash bags and eventually blowing Murray Franklin's brains out. Never before had he turned to something--what's the phrase he'd heard so many times? Turned to something constructive to relieve bad feelings.

Was Only Lies somehow helping him after all? Even if it was unintentional, it was a breakthrough for Arthur.

He sat up and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Soon they'd be getting him to wash up and go to breakfast. Hunter would be in this morning, and maybe he'd have a chance to see her before her shift started. He wondered how everything was at home--their home. Hers and Willard's. Eventually it would be his home, too. He hoped. If he got out of this fucking place.

_No more negative thoughts._

Every day Hunter filled him in on what she and Willard did. They had a second rat now. A companion for Aristotle. His name was Nicodemus. Hunter had brought a few photographs of him along with Aristotle and Willard. Willard looked incredible in the pictures. So healthy and handsome. It was nice to see him out of his Arkham clothes and in normal ones. Willard liked to wear suits, dark ones, in particular. He was so classy. Sometimes Arthur wondered why Willard was attracted to him.

_Wait until he sees you decked out in red._

Arthur grinned. It's true Willard had never seen him at his best. Even that time Joker had taken over the unit and borrowed Dr. Seil's clothes and the nurses' makeup hadn't been the same as wearing his own suit and paint. Still, he grinned at the memory of that brief taste of freedom.

Before he knew it, Arthur was seated in the cafeteria, slowly eating a bowl of oatmeal. His gaze kept riveting to the door. He hoped Hunter would walk through at any moment.

A jolt of excitement shot through him when she stepped into the cafeteria and glanced around. She found him almost right away and smiled, hurrying toward him.

"Hey, Arthur," she sat across from him. "How's it going?"

"I miss you." He said that every day, but she didn't seem to mind.

"We miss you, too, baby." She reached over to lightly rub his hand, but only for a second. Unless it was a hug during visiting hours, she wasn't supposed to touch him, at least not in common areas like the cafeteria. Yeah, they had special privileges because of Only Lies, but they had to follow at least some of the rules.

"I dreamed about you and Willard last night."

She smiled again. "A good one, I hope."

"Sort of." He curled his lip. "It ended too soon. We were really close to--you know." He smiled and lowered his head to gaze at her through his lashes. "You know, if you and Willard have gone all the way, I wouldn't be too upset about it."

Her eyes glistened with humor. "Why don't I believe you, Arthur?"

"It's true. I'd be upset, but not at you guys. It's just that I wish I could be with you, but I don't think I'd be able to hold back if I was the one on the outside."

"Willard and I are doing fine. We're so looking forward to you getting out."

"Me too. Is. . .Is Willard really doing fine?"

Her brow furrowed. "Yeah. I wouldn't lie to you about it."

"Then I don't know why Dr. Seil said seeing me might hurt his recovery."

Hunter looked confused. "What?"

"I asked again if Willard could come visit me, and Dr. Seil said that he's still adjusting to life outside of Arkham, and if he comes back and sees me, it might be bad for him."

"That son of a bitch," Hunter muttered, curling her lip and shaking her head. "He's such a sick fuck that it's hard to tell when he's being honest and when he's jerking us around. He told Willard the same thing about you, that if he let Willard come to see you, it might hurt _your_ recovery."

Rage sparked inside Arthur. That fucking bastard.  
  


_Only Lies only lies. You know it, but you've started to trust him. Haven't you learned by now that you can't trust anybody? Except Willard and Hunter._

"Arthur, I'm not sure I like that look in your eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have told you."

Joker's gaze locked on hers. "No, you should have. Don't lie to me, Hunter. Not ever."

An angry look crossed her pretty face. "Threats are a good way to get on my bad side."

"It's not a threat. If you want to leave me, then leave. If you're mad at me, then be mad, but don't lie to me."

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment.

"Don't betray you," she said softly. "That's what you mean, isn't it? You still think after all I know about you, after everything we have together, that I'd hurt you like that?"

Joker wanted to say no. He wanted to say he trusted her completely, but then _he'd_ be lying. It wasn't that he didn't want to. It was because he couldn't.

"Listen, I need to punch in for work, but I'll see you later." She rose, walked around the table, and gently squeezed his shoulder while bending to whisper in his ear. "I won't ever betray you, Arthur."

He swallowed hard and his lower lip quivered before he somehow managed to control himself. Drawing a deep breath, he tilted his gaze up to her. "I love you."

"I love you, too. So much." Another squeeze, and then she walked away.

Arthur felt bad because he knew his mistrust hurt her, but he couldn't help it, and he also couldn't keep it inside. He'd done that for most of his life and he knew that you could only swallow bad feelings for so long before you puked them up. When that happened, it was like spewing poison that destroyed everything in its path.

Sighing, Arthur toyed with his oatmeal.

Sometimes it felt like he was never going to get out of here. For the longest time, he'd resigned himself to knowing he'd never be free again. Now that he had the chance and people to share it with, he felt restless in a way he never had before.

It pissed him off even more knowing that Only Lies was keeping him and Willard apart for fun and Arthur couldn't do a fucking thing about it. The only way he could hurt Only Lies would be to somehow fuck up his plan, and doing that would only fuck up him, Willard, and Hunter.

Maybe he could find a way to get back at Only Lies, at least temporarily.

He took a bite of oatmeal and smiled faintly. He'd have to think about it.


	50. Feel This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter thinks back on a heart-to-heart with Willard, has a confrontation with Lony, and is impressed by Arthur's biceps.

On her way to punch in for work, Hunter struggled to control the anger burning inside her. Only Lies was getting on her last nerve. He was fucking with Arthur and Willard again, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about.

All day, she couldn't stop thinking about their situation. Sometimes at home it was easy to forget that Only Lies was using them to his advantage. Life had become almost normal for her and Willard. They went to work, and at night they ate together and worked with the rats as often as they could. Though Willard didn't say much about his job, he seemed to be adjusting well there. Hunter went to the gym several times a week, and sometimes he came with her, though he preferred his solitary workouts at home.

Though she didn't doubt Willard's affection for her and Arthur, he was very much a loner by nature. About a week after his release from Arkham, she had awakened one night to find the bed empty beside her. They were in his room, where they usually slept, though some nights they used her room. Concerned, she had gone looking for him and found him asleep on her bed. This had puzzled her. Not wanting to wake him, she'd headed for the door, intending to ask him about it in the morning.

"Hunter," he'd said softly before she left.

"Willard, is everything all right?" she'd asked, turning back to sit beside him.

"Y. . .yes. I'm okay." He'd pushed back the satiny tendrils of black hair that had fallen across his face. "I. . .I don't know how to say this without--" He'd stopped and shaken his head.

Despite a feeling of apprehensiion, she'd touched his shoulder and said, "Just say it."  
  


"I care about you, Hunter. I love you."

She'd smiled and let her hand drift to his cheek. "I love you, too."

"But sometimes, I need to be. . .alone."

"Oh." She'd let her hand drop. She'd felt a little hurt, but she understood the need for privacy. "I didn't mean to bother you, but when I saw you weren't in bed, I got worried. I'll leave you alone."

"Hunter." He'd caught her hand and tugged her beside him. His blue gaze had held hers with uncharacteristic vulnerability. Usually Willard looked quite calm, except for when his fierce temper got the better of him. It had never been directed at her, but Arthur could certainly rouse it. "This has nothing to do with you. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. It's just that sometimes I need to be alone with my thoughts, to pull myself together. Do you understand?"

Her hurt feelings had completely disappeared. She'd smiled again. "I understand completely. Everyone wants to be alone sometimes. Why don't you go back to your room and I'll stay here?"

Cupping her face, he'd covered her mouth in a gentle kiss. "Thank you. Thank you for understanding."

"It's okay." She'd hugged him tightly and then let him go.

He'd left the bed and headed for the door, but paused for a moment and glanced back at her, his expression concerned. "Arthur won't understand."

"Don't worry about it. He'll get how you feel, even if it takes him a little longer."

"He needs to feel wanted, and I do want him--both of you. It's just--"

"I'll never let him be lonely."

He'd smiled, looking relieved. "Why couldn't the three of us have met before all those horrible things happened?"

"I don't know," Hunter had said softly and glanced at her hands. She'd lifted her gaze to Willard's again. "No point losing sleep over it, though."

"Goodnight."

He'd left the room, but it had taken a long time for Hunter to fall asleep.

Willard had been right about Arthur needing to feel wanted. It was much like Willard's need to be alone at times. It was part of who they were, and it didn't mean that Willard loved his companions any less. Willard and Hunter talked about Arthur often, and she knew how much it hurt both men that they weren't allowed to see each other.

That evening after visiting hours, Hunter rode home with Only Lies, who had worked late. Even if it did no good, she needed to confront him about how he'd been playing with Arthur and Willard.

"You're even quieter than usual tonight, Hunter," he observed.

"I know what you're doing."

A faint smile played with his lips.” What do you mean?"

"You're using Arthur and Willard against each other."

"In what way?"

"You told each of them that by allowing them to visit, they'd be hurting the other."

"Hunter, sometimes I think you forget that they're both sick men."

"You're the one who's sick."

"Are you sure you want to have this conversation?"

She glared at him. "You're getting everything you want from us, but even that's not enough."

"It seems to me that you're all getting more from me than you'd ever get from anyone."

"Why don't you want Arthur and Willard to see each other?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I'm acting in their best interest? Allowing them to see each other might trigger either one of them."

"And what happens when Arthur gets out? Are you going to try to keep them apart then? It's not the deal we made."

"If you must know, I intend to allow Willard to visit tomorrow night, if he wants to."

Hunter resisted the urge to punch him in the throat. There were no words for how much she hated this man. "When did you make that decision?"

"I said I'd been considering it. I hope it's the right decision, for everyone's sake."

His words of uncertainly shouldn't affect Hunter, but deep inside she couldn't help wondering if he was right. He was a psychiatrist, after all.

But he was also a psychopath, and she could never forget that.

When they reached the mansion, Willard had already been home from work for a couple of hours. He had made dinner, and Hunter was a bit disappointed when Lony joined them. The less time she spent with him, the better. She hoped the reason he'd decided to stay home this evening was to tell Willard that he could visit Arthur tomorrow.

Once they sat down to a plain but healthy dinner of broiled chicken and vegetables, Lony said, "Willard, I've decided that it's time you and Arthur are allowed a visit."

Willard glanced at him sharply. "I won't argue about it, but didn't you just tell me that it could set back Arthur's recovery? Why the change?"

"Perhaps I was wrong. In a few months, he'll be eligible for conditional release. Maybe it's time to find out how he'll react to seeing you again."

Willard's gaze shifted toward Hunter. She knew he didn't trust Dr. Seil anymore than she did. After all, Willard had been the first to realize that he was Only Lies.

"I thought you'd be happier about it," the doctor said.

"I am happy, as long as you're telling the truth."

Raising his eyes to heaven, Dr. Seil chuckled softly. "I don't know why the three of you feel like I'm against you. We're all on the same team, remember?"

The rest of the meal was eaten in relative silence. Afterward, Lony retired to the study. Soon music vibrated from behind the closed door.

"Let's go for a walk," Willard suggested.

He and Hunter quickly cleaned the dinner dishes, and then they pulled on their coats. With Aristotle tucked into Willard's pocket and Nicodemus in Hunter's, they left the house for a long stroll around the neighborhood.

With Only Lies home, it was too dangerous for them to venture to the shed to work with the rats, and tonight that was fine with Hunter. It was nice, to just relax with Willard without working on their own agenda. They talked about their jobs and about Arthur most of all.

Willard was clearly excited to see him, but also worried because he didn't trust Only Lies. They decided that it was better if she didn't tell Arthur about his visit when she went to work in the morning. If Only Lies was toying with them again, then it would be even more painful for Arthur if he anticipated a visit that never came.

When they got home, Only Lies was still in the study.

"Do you want to be alone tonight?" Hunter asked Willard.

"No. Do you?"

She shook her head. "I'll change for bed and meet you in your room."

"I'll be waiting."

A short time later, Hunter lay in bed, spooned by Willard. Aristotle and Nicodemus burrowed under the covers.

Hunter's gaze drifted toward the locked door. Truthfully, she hadn't spent a peaceful night in this house. If not for Willard, she'd never stay under the same roof as Only Lies.

* * *

In the morning, when Hunter arrived at Arkham, she greeted Arthur like usual, and then she punched in for work. It was hard not to tell him about Willard's impending visit, but it was the right thing to do.

By the time she brought him and the other patients their dinner, Dr. Seil had told him that Willard would be coming tonight.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." Arthur grinned, digging into his food with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"I was afraid Dr. Seil would change his mind and then you'd be disappointed."

His green eyes glittered with mischief. "You treat me like a little boy sometimes. I can handle disappointment. Most of my life was disappointments."

"Then I'd rather you not have so many now. Glad you're hungry."

"Dr. Seil gave me a killer workout this afternoon at the pool. I can't wait to swim in a real river now that I probably won't drown."

Hunter chuckled and shook her head. "You're one of a kind, Arthur."

"He's going to take us upstate to a cabin so that I can practice in some rivers and lakes. That's what he told me."

The idea of spending time in a lakeside cabin with her guys sparked Hunter's interest. It sounded almost storybook romantic, but she reminded herself that if they were in a story with Only Lies, it would more likely be in the horror genre instead of romance.

"I can't believe Willard is going to be here tonight." Arthur's eyes practically glowed.

Hunter grinned. "You're really excited."

"Yeah. How do I look, though?" Arthur stopped eating long enough to run his hand through his unkempt hair.

"You look fine, Arthur. Adorable."

"I've seen your pictures of Willard. He looks so classy now, and I'm like this." He glanced down at his Arkham attire. Then he pushed up his sleeve, held up his arm, and flexed his rather respectable biceps. "Look at this, though. Who'd think you'd get this from a pool?"

"Haven't you ever watched the Olympics?"

He shook his head and wrinkled his nose. "I don't like sports."

"Swimming is sports."

"That's different. Feel this." He motioned toward his still-flexed muscle.

Giggling softly at his childlike quality, she stepped closer and grasped the hard curve of his arm. She didn't have to pretend to be impressed. For such a slim guy who had arrived at Arkham with so many health problems, he was in really good condition now.

"That's really sexy, Arth--" Her sentence disappeared into his mouth as he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her.

Closing her eyes, Hunter melted against him until he broke the kiss. The tip of his nose brushed against hers and she was so close that she could see the faint gray outlines around his gleaming green irises.

"Arthur, you'd better let me go. We're not supposed to be doing this."

"You know how I love to break the rules."

"But you don't want to screw up the visit with Willard."

"You're right." He released her so abruptly that she nearly fell on her rump.

"Thanks a lot, Arthur," she teased. "You almost dropped me."

"Sorry." He lightly grasped her arm and tilted his gaze toward hers. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"You're going to visit tonight, too, right?"

"If you want me to. You guys might prefer to be alone."

He shook his head. "We're a family."

His words warmed her. As much as Hunter wanted to hang out with him longer, she had other meals to deliver.

"Finish your dinner. I'll be back in a little bit for the tray."

"I'm not going to push it through the slot."

"I don't expect you to." She smiled and winked at him before leaving his room.


	51. Expect the Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willard deals with gossip and meets someone from his past. He and Arthur finally meet again. Hunter and Willard keep their promise to Arthur, but struggle with guilt over a little indulgence.

Willard picked up an armful of books from the cart and headed off to reshelve them. Before disappearing between two aisles, he glanced toward the reference desk where the head librarian and another assistant whispered together. They glanced in Willard's direction, and he knew they were talking about him. 

Since he'd started this job, he had been on time and willingly stayed late when asked. He worked quickly and efficiently, and never gave anyone a reason for complaint. Still, he had overheard conversations when other library workers thought he wasn't listening. He heard the presumptions. There was no missing the disdain and the fear in their voices and in their eyes when they looked at him.

The idea that they judged him without knowing him sparked anger, but he buried it. After all, a relatively short time ago he had been a public spectacle. Despite a lack of solid evidence, some people still believed he was responsible for Mr. Martin's death. When his co-workers looked at him, they saw the insane rat-man of Gotham.

Perhaps one day they would accept him, but it really didn't matter to Willard. As long as they left him alone. He could endure them chattering behind his back, and other than Arthur, Hunter, Aristotle, and Nicodemus, he didn't require any friends.

Today he had more important things on his mind than his coworkers' gossip. Later that night, he would return to Arkham to visit Arthur. He missed Arthur terribly. Just thinking about seeing him again made his heart beat faster and sent so many contradictory thoughts racing through his mind. Would their meeting help or harm Arthur? Although he didn't trust Only Lies, he couldn't help wondering if maybe he was right about their visit upsetting Arthur. Would it only serve to remind him about their separation? No. By thinking that way he was underestimating Arthur.

"Willard? Willard Stiles?"

Willard turned sharply toward the woman who had spoken. His heart palpitated. Of all the people in Gotham, she was one he had hoped to never meet again. Not that they had known each other well. He had seen her just a few times when she had stopped by his family's--Mr. Martin's--company to speak to her husband.

"M. . .Mrs. Martin?" he said, unable to keep the quiver from his voice. 

"I heard you were released." The older, well-dressed lady kept her distance, however he didn't see any of the loathing in her eyes that he'd expected.

"Y. . .Yes."

They stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment before she smiled awkwardly and said, "How have you been?"

"Fine. I'm fine. Thank you for asking. How are you?" 

How could she be? Her husband was dead, and Willard had murdered him with the help of his trained rats.

"If you must know, I'm excellent," she said. 

"I'm glad to hear you're doing well after. . .since Mr. Martin--"

"Honestly, Willard, it's like I've been set free. He was a most unpleasant man. Always yelling, demanding, and--" She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she stepped closer to Willard and touched his wrist. "If you had anything to do with what happened to him, I don't hold it against you. As a matter of fact, whomever or whatever was responsible has my thanks."

Willard looked stunned. "Well, I. . .I'm glad to hear that you're all right."

"All right? I'm rich and now I'm happy, too. I don't have to listen to him yell and curse and berate me and everyone else around him. He was a hateful, hateful man. I don't even want to think about what my life with him was like." She drew a deep breath, released it, and smiled. "I heard how he treated you, and I'd like to apologize."

"Believe me, Mrs. Martin, that's not necessary."

"Maybe not, but I don't want you to think that I hold anything against you, whether or not you had anything to do with Martin's death."

"I. . .If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about that time of my life. I'd like to move on."

She smiled brighter. "I understand. That's best for us all. Good luck to you, Willard."

"To you as well, Mrs. Martin."

She walked off, leaving Willard standing there, momentarily stunned. He blinked and shook his head before continuing to shelve books. 

Had Mrs. Martin been telling the truth, or had she been trying to lure him into a confession that would send him back to Arkham--or perhaps prison--for life? From the few times he had seen the Martins together, his former boss had spoken to her with the same anger and contempt as he'd spoken to everyone else, especially Willard.

Willard knew better than to trust anyone other than Arthur and Hunter, yet she had seemed sincere. He would have to talk to Hunter about his meeting with Mrs. Martin, but it wouldn't be until much later. He didn't want to bring it up during visiting hours with Arthur. Before mentioning something like this to Arthur, he wanted to discuss it with Hunter first. Still trapped in Arkham, Arthur already had enough on his mind. 

After work, Willard went home to shower and change into fresh clothes while waiting for Hunter and Dr. Seil to arrive. Dr. Seil had insisted on driving Willard to Arkham. He hoped Only Lies would at least give the trio some privacy during visiting hours, but Willard doubted it. He'd make some excuse to hover over them, dampening any happy moments they might share. 

In the shower, Willard turned his face toward the faucet and let warm water soothe away the stress of his day. One wouldn't think that working in a library would be stressful, but dealing with the public wasn't always easy, nor was knowing that his coworkers mistrusted him. 

Instead of dwelling on his day, he imagined seeing Arthur again. They would hug, of course. Willard longed to feel Arthur's wiry body pressed close to his. They wouldn't kiss, at least not on the mouth. No matter that things weren't as horrible as they used to be, same sex relationships still weren't considered acceptable in many circles. One day, hopefully sooner than later, Arthur would be released from Arkham. Then he, Hunter, and Willard would be free to do whatever they wanted. They could be lovers. Friends. A real family.

Willard reached for a cake of soap, but as he ran it over his skin, he imagined Arthur's hands on his body. He remembered how his lips felt, how he tasted. He felt Arthur's rough but gentle hands trail over his chest and stomach. Willard's breathing deepened when he remembered the sensation of Arthur stroking him. So many nights reaching through the rat hole, stealing touches, caressing each other to completion.

Willard's penis twitched to life. He dropped the soap and wrapped his hand around his erection, stroking slowly at first, much like Arthur used to. Arthur usually took his time. He liked to tease, to enjoy every moment, to make the most of their time together. 

While Arthur stroked him, Hunter's small, strong hands roamed over his chest. She pressed soft kisses to his neck, like she did most nights, raising goosebumps of pleasure on his skin. 

Sometimes it was hard for them to wait, just like it was difficult for Willard now.

He didn't need to wait. He could indulge in this daydream.

Moaning and gasping, he stroked himself faster. At the moment of climax, Joker's beautiful red painted lips slid over the crown of his erection, swallowing him while he came and came.

Panting, Willard leaned against the shower wall, letting the warm water cleanse his heated body.

Once he recovered, he picked up the soap, finished washing quickly, and stepped out of the shower to dry off.

After dressing, he stood in his room, staring at himself in a full-length mirror, hoping he would look attractive to Arthur. He'd chosen gray trousers and a matching blazer with a black turtleneck beneath. He'd brushed his black hair until it shone.

The front door opened, and Willard jerked a bit, startled out of yet another daydream. He left his room and walked to the top of the stairs.

"Willard, glad you're ready to go," Dr. Seil called.

Hunter hurried upstairs. "I'm going to shower and change. Give me fifteen minutes."

The doctor strode toward the study.

When Hunter reached the top of the stairs, she paused and her gaze raked Willard.

"Wow. You look stunning." She cupped the back of his neck and gently kissed his mouth. "Mmm. You smell good, too."

"Thank you." He leaned toward her and kissed her harder. His hand strayed to her firm backside.

She wiggled her eyebrows before hurrying to her room. Willard followed her. He lingered in the doorway while she pulled off her sweater and tossed it into a nearby laundry basket. 

Wearing only a simple white bra that hugged her small, round breasts, she glanced at him. "Come in and close the door."

"I can go--"

"Only if you want to."

Willard stepped in, shut the door, and sat on the bed.

Hunter shed the rest of her clothes. His gaze lingered on her lithe, graceful body. Instead of walking directly to the bathroom to shower, she approached and caressed his hair. Willard rested his hands on her hips and tugged her closer to brush his cheek against her breasts. Her spiky nipples scraped his skin and he turned to flick his tongue over one of the tight little nubs.

Moaning softly, she pressed his head closer, her fingers caressing his hair.

Willard drew her nipple into his mouth while his hands roamed over her narrow back and down to cup her smooth bottom. Touching her felt so good. Masturbating in the shower while thinking about the three of them aroused him so much that he was already getting hard again.

If only the three of them could be together tonight. They _would_ be together, but they couldn't--

He needed to be satisfied with what they had. At least he would finally be allowed to see Arthur again.

"I'd better get ready," Hunter said in a husky voice. "Or else we'll be late."

"We can't be late. Not tonight." Willard tilted his gaze up to meet her dark, fathomless eyes.

She smiled and trailed her fingertip over his lips before walking to the bathroom. Before stepping inside, she glanced at him again.

While she showered, Willard walked to her vanity and picked up her brush to smooth his now disheveled hair. Then he slid off his shoes and sat on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. Closing his eyes, he tried to clear his mind.

The sound of water running in the shower lulled him, as did the citrus scent of Hunter's perfume that hung softly on the air. She didn't wear scents to work, but used them often at home. This one in particular reminded Willard of her.

A short time later, she emerged from the bathroom. He watched her dress and then sit at her vanity to apply a hint of makeup.

When she finished, she stood, wearing a clingy red sweater, jeans, and black boots. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," he said. The truth was, he didn't like jeans, but he would never tell her that. Regardless of how he felt about them, with her long, sleekly-muscled legs, she wore them well.

Willard stood, stepped back into his shoes, and offered his hand. She slipped hers into it and they walked downstairs together.

Only Lies awaited them, wearing his long black coat. He glanced at his watch. "You both took great care to look your best, I see."

His words irritated Willard, but he ignored them.

They left the house, and a moment later were on their way to Arkham--to Arthur.

* * *

During the ride, Willard sat quietly, but his heart pounded and all his senses were overloaded. The citrus aroma of Hunter's perfume, the sharp scent of Dr. Seil's muscle liniment, and the pungent smell of smoggy Gotham air all seemed stronger than usual. The almost silent purr of the car's engine and the creak of Seil's leather gloves against the steering wheel vibrated in Willard's ears. All this because he was going to see Arthur. It had been ages since he'd been nervous around Arthur--not since they'd first met.

Yet he wasn't nervous. He was excited. The reality of it struck Willard hard, as did the love he felt for a man he'd once hated. Or had he ever truly hated Arthur? 

Arthur had pushed his buttons, as they say. He had forced Willard out of his shell. Hunter had helped him emerge, too, but in a different way. She had been a gentle, guiding hand. Arthur had been a fist that knocked him back into the real world. He loved them both dearly, and while Hunter would always have a piece of his heart, no one would ever thrill him as much as that deviously lovable madman Arthur Fleck.

Beside him, Hunter stared out the window, a faint smile on her lips. He knew that expression. She was thinking about Arthur, too. It was strange, the effect he had on people. 

As if feeling his gaze on her, Hunter turned to Willard and her smile broadened. His lips turned up in return before he glanced down at their entwined fingers resting on his thigh. 

Every now and then, Only Lies glanced at them in the rearview mirror. It was still unsettling, how much he resembled Arthur. Those eyes of his were just as big, green, and beautiful, except for the cold, calculating expression in them. Even at his worst, Arthur's eyes had never looked like that -- soulless.

As they approached Arkham, Willard was nearly overwhelmed by emotion--discomfort and panic mingled with his eagerness to see his lover. Not very long ago, Willard had been a patient here. Trapped. At the mercy of people like Sausage Breath and Only Lies. Of course he was still under Only Lies's control, but he at least had some freedom.

Only Lies parked, and the three of them entered the building and went through the protocol for visitors. Willard wished he had thought to bring something for Arthur, but it was too late now.

It felt almost dreamlike, heading into the rec room, only this time as a relatively free man. Tonight Willard would walk out of Arkham, but Arthur would remain behind. It was a sobering thought. The dreamlike state faded.

Then he saw Arthur. Dressed in blue Arkham issue clothes, he rose from where he sat at at table across the room and strode toward Willard and Hunter. She hung back a little, giving them the opportunity to greet each other without interference. Surprisingly, Only Lies did the same.

"Hey, Willard!" Arthur said in a loud, excited voice. He hurled himself at Willard, his wiry arms tight around him, his face buried between his shoulder and neck. He had a few days growth of beard and it scraped against Willard's skin, but it felt wonderful. Closing his eyes, Willard hugged Arthur with matching exuberance. He breathed in his delicious scent and relished the sensation of Arthur's slim, strong body against his. He rubbed his narrow back, noting that his usually protruding spine wasn't as prominent as before and his wiry muscles were harder than ever.

"I don't want to let you go." Arthur spoke softly into Willard's ear before pressing his lips all too briefly to his cheek.

Willard longed to kiss his mouth, but they couldn't. Not there. Finally stepping back a bit to look into Arthur's glistening eyes, it was obvious Arthur felt the same.

"I've missed you so much," Arthur said.

"I. . .I've missed you, too." Willard didn't bother trying to hide his emotions. He wanted Arthur to see, hear, and feel how much he loved him. Turning to Hunter and then back to Arthur, he added, "We both miss you."

Hunter nodded. "Yes. A lot."

"Sweetheart." Arthur embraced Hunter. Holding her hand and Willard's, he grinned, part Arthur and part Joker. "We're together again. Nothing is better than this."

Only Lies cleared his throat. "I'm sure the three of you have a lot to talk about. I'm going to my office and will be back in about an hour."

An hour. That wasn't nearly enough time, but it would have to be. For now.

"I don't have to remind you all to behave yourselves, " Only Lies added before he turned and left the rec room.

Other patients were engaged with visitors, so they paid little attention to the trio. A few of them, including Amanda, remembered Willard and greeted him. 

Finally they sat at the table where Arthur pulled out his journal and sketchbook. His artwork was better than ever. He offered Willard a sketch he had done of Hunter, Aristotle, and Nicodemus from a photo she had given him.

"Thank you. It's beautiful. I should have brought something for you. I. . .I wasn't thinking."

Staring at him with wide green eyes, Arthur said, "Having you and Hunter here again is the best present I could ever have."

"We'll be together a lot more often," Hunter said.

"Maybe." Arthur's gentle expression faded and Joker curled his lip. "It depends on Only Lies. I'm liking that fact less and less."

"We all feel that way." Hunter touched his hand. Their fingers entwined and Arthur's lips flicked into another grin.

Turning back to Willard, Arthur asked, "So tell me what's going on. How's your job? You look fucking beautiful. How do you keep getting more handsome?"

Willard's face heated and he cast his gaze down. He doubted he'd ever get used to compliments like this or people noticing him. 

"My job is fine. You know I love libraries. It's frustrating, though, because I could do so much more. Some of the employees still gossip about me, but I guess that's to be expected."

Hunter narrowed her eyes, an almost angry look in them. "You never told me that. Are you being harassed?"

That's why he hadn't told her. As much as he appreciated her caring, she could be slightly overprotective of both him and Arthur.

"No. Nothing like that," Willard assured her. "I mean, realistically, I was a patient here and my previous behavior--"

"Fuck them," Joker said with another curl of his lip.

"Let's just change the subject," Willard suggested. He had no desire to waste their time together talking about petty gossip mongers from work. "How are you doing, Arthur?"

"Oh, you know me." Joker flashed his easy grin and batted his lashes. "Laugh a minute, except in the pool. I'm always serious about that."

"You're looking very well," Willard said. Arthur looked fantastic, actually. He wished they could be truly alone for a while.

"Ah, you smooth talker." Joker's smile broadened and he practically devoured Willard with his eyes. Beneath the table, his hand strayed to Willard's inner thigh and squeezed.

Willard's pulse leapt and his penis stiffened. Again his face heated. No doubt everyone could see him blushing.

"Arthur, behave," he said softly.

"Seriously?" Joker raised an eyebrow. "Me? Behave? Where's the fun in that?"

"Oh yeah. This is just like old times." Hunter smiled.

Visiting hours ended all too quickly. Before they left, Arthur hugged both Hunter and Willard long and hard. It took all of Willard's self-control to tear himself away from Arthur, but what choice did they have?

In the car, he and Hunter sat close to each other in the back seat.

"That went better than I'd expected," Only Lies said lightly. "Maybe you can see each other again next week."

"Next week?" Hunter said. "I thought Willard could come with me every night."

"Of course not," Only Lies said. "All things in moderation. I sometimes worry about you visiting Arthur too much as well, Hunter."

Hunter looked about to speak, but instead kept silent. There was no arguing with Only Lies. He would always see things the way he wanted to. The less they fed his ego by engaging in verbal sparring matches, the better.

"No comment?" Only Lies grinned, those predatory green eyes watching them in the rearview mirror. "I'm impressed. The three of you really are learning how to behave. It's better for everyone in the long run . We'll all be very happy. Eventually."

"Do you anticipate Arthur being released when his case is reviewed?" Hunter ventured.

"I hope so. If not this time, then the next for certain."

Willard dared not hope for Arthur to be set free in a few months. He would prefer to be pleasantly surprised if it happened than disappointed if it didn't.

At home, Only Lies again disappeared into the study. 

On their way upstairs, Hunter asked, "Do you want to be alone tonight?"

Usually she was good at appearing impartial, but tonight there was no missing the longing in her eyes. Maybe it was because they had enjoyed a bittersweet and all too fast reunion with Arthur, but Willard didn't want to sleep alone tonight, either.

"I'd like us to be together," he said softy.

"Good." She squeezed his hand. 

In his room, they undressed and put on their nightclothes Willard had always slept in pajamas, but when he and Hunter were together, he wore only the bottoms. She usually slept in a tank and shorts, and he enjoyed the sensation of her skin against his.

Beneath the blankets, Willard held her close. His lips grazed her temple, and then he brushed the tip of his nose against hers. She angled her face to kiss him. Her full, soft lips pressed against his. Closing his eyes, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Hers met it, and she moaned softly.

Willard slid his hands beneath her tank top. He caressed her smooth, warm skin and cupped her small, firm breasts.

"Take this off," he whispered, tugging her top.

She didn't hesitate to remove it and toss it onto a nearby chair. She turned back to him, humming softly when he pulled her close. Her bare breasts pressed against his naked chest. It felt shockingly good. When they'd promised to wait for Arthur, they had done little else but kiss and cuddle, always while clothed. He wasn't sure why he wanted her skin against his tonight. Maybe it would help to soothe the pain of leaving Arthur behind. Yet by doing this, were they cheating on him in a way? They had promised to wait.

Hunter moaned again and continued kissing him. She hugged him tight and wiggled against him. He was rock hard now, his thoughts torn between her warm and real in his arms and memories of Arthur, stroking him through the rat hole.

"Willard," she murmured. "We shouldn't."

"I know." His heart raced and his breathing quickened. It felt so good, but they couldn't. "We can't. . ."

"Go all the way. But this isn't." She kissed him again and he grasped her firm buttocks, pulling her closer. She ground against his erection and Willard gasped, thrusting in time with her wriggling hips. This wasn't going all the way. It wasn't wrong. Maybe it was. 

He shifted position to capture one of her nipples between his lips. He laved and sucked it.

"Oh, Willard!" Hunter panted, grinding harder and faster against him.

His breathing ragged, he kissed her again. He was exquisitely hard and sensitive and she was rubbing and bucking and--

With a half-gasp, half-shout he climaxed, his penis trapped between their straining bodies.

Her fingers bit into his back and she writhed faster until she went stiff and still, except for rhythmic throbbing deep in her belly. Quivering and panting, she relaxed against him.

They hadn't actually broken their promise. Willard hoped Arthur wouldn't be hurt. Now more than ever he keenly felt his missing presence.

"I wish he was here," Hunter murmured.

"So do I."

"We didn't go all the way."

"We won't. Not without him."

"Goodnight, Willard."

"Goodnight."

They fell asleep in each other's arms, Arthur in their thoughts.


	52. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's first hearing doesn't go as planned. Joker kills again, and Arthur is finally free--at least from Arkham.

_A Few Months Later_

Lony had been almost certain that the hearing for Arthur’s conditional release would go his way. He personally knew—and had done his best to influence—almost every psychiatric review board member who could possibly be assigned to the hearing.

What he hadn’t counted on was someone else’s interference—someone he least expected.

It was just days after the hearing, during another dull chess game that Hector Jones admitted to Lony that he had spoken against Arthur to several of his friends on the review board.

Lony rarely misjudged people, and it infuriated him that he had allowed himself to lapse into overconfidence regarding his control over everyone he touched.

Hearing Hector’s casual revelation, Lony unconsciously snapped the stem of his wine glass. His blood dripped onto Hector’s carpet.

“Lony! Let’s get you cleaned and bandaged.” Hector stood abruptly, concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Lony forced a smile.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Hector strode out of the room, and Lony took the opportunity to snarl and curse under his breath.

He was not _remotely_ fine. If not for Hector, Arthur might be out of Arkham already. At the hearing, Arthur himself had been impressively collected. Lony had been certain that the board members could see that he was a different man.

Now Lony knew that it was Hector who had put doubt in their minds. He had swayed the others, and he was the reason Arthur remained in Arkham and Lony's plans were postponed.

Hector returned with antiseptic and bandages. He inspected Lony's hand. "I think you could do with a few stitches."

"Not required." Lony stiffly allowed Hector to clean and bandage his wounds.

"Lony, I know how much you believe in Arthur Fleck." Hector spoke calmly, as if talking to a patient. Inside Lony bristled. "And I agree he's come a long way, but releasing him this quickly--Gotham won't stand for it, and everyone at the hearing knows that. Releasing Willard Stiles was different. He wasn't convicted of murder. In fact I don't believe he actually killed anyone. It's preposterous to think he could train wild rats to kill a human being. Fleck is different. He admitted to murdering six people. One of them was Murray Franklin on live TV. The board couldn’t release him after a year and a half, no matter how well he's recovered. It's not reasonable to believe that he won't be a danger to society."

"Arthur is no more danger to society than I am," Lony replied honestly. That bit of truth was quite funny.

All the time he'd wasted gaining Hector's trust hadn't paid off. It had instead worked against him. The irony of it nearly made him laugh, as did the knowledge that Arthur was probably _less_ apt than Lony to kill again. With the proper medication and therapy he'd received in Arkham as well as his emotional needs met by Willard and Hunter, Arthur could probably live a relatively normal, boring life, _if_ Lony allowed it.

"You're probably right, and there will be other chances for review. If Fleck remains stable, maybe next time will go the way you want. I’m sure my opinion didn’t matter too much, anyway, and I hope this won't affect our friendship."

Lony smiled. "Of course not."

"And the. . .trust we've built?"

Hector was referring to all the times Lony had covered for him while he cheated on his wife. Lony had intended to use that information against him, should he ever interfere with Lony's plans for Arthur. Now he realized how petty that would be.

"Hector, anything you've told me, anything I've done for you in friendship, will remain forever between us."

Looking relieved, Hector smiled. "That's what I figured. You're a good man, Lony, and your hard work with Arthur Fleck will pay off."

Lony smiled back. "I know it will. We're still meeting for drinks tomorrow night?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

The following night couldn't come quickly enough for Lony. He needed to deal with his fury regarding Hector's revelation, but at least he could soothe himself by planning his revenge. 

* * *

The next night, Lony and Hector met at a bar owned by a "friend" of Lony's. It was easy to tamper with Hector's drink, rendering him unconscious. 

He'd never forget the expression on Hector's pinched face when he woke in old Arkham to find himself facing Joker.

His fear, panic, and realization that he was going to die at the hands of Gotham's most infamous madman, was all so _delicious_ to see.

The thrill of it sent laughter bubbling from Joker's throat. Pleasure flooded him, making him tingle. Making him hard.

It felt so good, standing there, his fake beard discarded, his smooth-shaven face painted in white, red, and teal.

"A...Arthur F. . .Fleck? How did you escape?" Hector sputtered.

"Arthur Fleck? I'm Joker."

Approaching his trembling victim, Joker grinned savagely.

"Oh, my. . .No. You can't be. . .Lony?"

"Joker." He whipped out what appeared to be a glossy black wand. "Do you like magic? I love magic. Clown magic. Tonight I have a very special performance planned. Like you and the board made my plans for Arthur Fleck disappear, I'm going to make _you_ disappear."

"Lony, what are you doing? I'm your friend. Let me help you."

Joker chuckled. "Says the man who's trussed up like a holiday goose. Such a silly goose, betraying my trust like that."

"I never betrayed you."

"Of course you did. It's what you do best. You betrayed your wife all the time, so maybe _I_ was the silly goose thinking you'd be loyal to me." Joker pulled a horn out of his pocket and honked it in Hector's face. "Silly goose."

He tossed the horn over his shoulder and tugged off the tip of the wand, revealing a razor-edged blade.

"Lony, you don't want to do this. Once you start down this road--"

"Start? Oh, you sweet, stupid man. Do you think you're my _first_?" Joker leaned so close that his mouth almost touched Hector's dry lips. "I'd tell you about my first, but I don't want to share that information with someone I can't trust."

"But that's what I'm trying to tell you. You _can_ trust me." Hector looked so deliciously desperate that a shiver of pure lust tore through Joker.

Licking his lips, Joker pressed the knife to the side of Hector's throat and whispered in his ear. "I promised your secrets would stay between us forever, and they will."

"Lony--"

"Joker. I'm Joker. You have the wrong man in Arkham, Hector. Now that Fleck has proper treatment, chances of him killing again are a fucking lot slimmer than the same being said for me."

Hector couldn't respond. He was too busy choking on his own blood.

* * *

_Six Months Later_

Arthur's second hearing went better than the first. The day of his release, Lony personally escorted Arthur out of Arkham. On their way, they passed by a plaque with an inscription to honor the memory of Dr. Hector Jones whose body had been found in several pieces throughout Gotham. So far, police had no clues about his murderer.

Lony had attended his funeral and offered comfort to his wife.

"If there's anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask," Lony had told her.

She'd gazed at him with teary eyes. "Thank you, Lony. Hector thought so highly of you. He enjoyed your friendship."

Lony had smiled. "I thoroughly enjoyed him as well." That much was the truth.

"I can't believe this is real," Arthur said, breaking Lony's thoughts.

"Oh, it's real, brother." Lony glanced at Fleck from the corner of his eye, but Arthur wasn't paying attention to him. No doubt he was already fantasizing about seeing Hunter and Willard. Tonight the manic ménage would be fucking like the rats Willard so adored. Revolting.

Reaching the doors, Lony couldn't keep the grin from his face, and neither could Arthur. Willard and Hunter awaited him outside. Only death could have kept them from Arkham that day, and as enticing as that was, Lony wanted them alive right now. The four of them still had work to do.

Fleck's real training, and the real fun, was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. It's mostly to catch up with Lony/Joker and the events leading up to Arthur's release from Arkham (finally!). The next chapter will go into details about the trio's first day of (relative) freedom together.  
> Thank you for sticking with the story!


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